Once Upon Another Time He's Yours
by OnceUponAnotherTimeHe'sYours
Summary: What if Christine had told the Phantom Gustave was his son after Once Upon Another Time? Would the story say the same? Or will people come together while sharing a common enemy? We shall see... Please reiview - and give me ideas if you have any! E/C
1. He's Yours

**A/N: I'm trying to think of an opportunity in _Love Never Dies_ for some major plot explosion in which everything changes… *thinks hard for a little while* aha! *light bulb appears over head… clears throat* What if… Christine had had the guts to tell our poor Phantom that Gustave was his son after **_**Once Upon Another Time?**_

* * *

><p>Christine gently directed her son inside. "Back to bed now, darling," she said, her voice full of gentle motherly affection and authority. The Phantom watched silently, feeling slightly awkward at witnessing a family embrace, as Gustave left the room.<p>

"Such a child… so full of life… so full of _you_, my Christi-"

"He's yours," she said suddenly, whirling around and biting her lip. _Damn, Christine!_ She thought. _Now what have you done?_

_He's yours…_The Phantom, was, for once in his life, at a total loss for words. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened, and closed it again; pursing his deformed lips. When did finally find the words, "What?" they came out hoarse and quiet, and he was bitterly reminded of a time when he was a boy, afraid of the world and it's cruelties.

Christine tried again with a gentler approach. "Gustave… he's not Raoul's son… he's _yours."_

The Phantom was staring at her. He remembered her ten years ago, all innocence and angelic beauty, and compared that to her now. She was obviously a woman. Her features were more mature, and she seemed to be much older than her years claimed. A lifetime of confusion and despair no child should endure etched into her eyes, and the last ten years of stress, loneliness, and keeping a forbidden secret had aged her.

"My… _son_," he tried out the word, almost as a question. It felt foreign on his tongue, as if it was never designed to come from his lips that had never been destined to kiss, and yet they had. Christine had given him all he had never dared hope to even posses, and here she was again, giving him a physical symbol of their past. Truly, the best of both worlds, was their… _son_.

He was startled when he felt a hand on his elbow. Christine was going to say his name, ask him if he was alright? But then she realized, with a pang of embarrassment, she didn't know his name, or even if he had one for that matter. She closed her mouth and looked away from his gaze, letting a sigh escape her full lips.

The Phantom immediately regained his composure, straightening his back and taking one deep, calming breath. "How do you know?" he asked.

Relieved, she visibly relaxed and revealed what she had been hiding for ten years. "Oh! He tells me he hears music; music in his mind. Relentless and never stopping. Coming to him uncontrolled… He said it reminds him of the nighttime… And he lets it play him to sleep. And he composes these beautiful little melodies, he does, ever since he knew what a piano was he hasn't gone a day without touching one." Speaking in a rush, it took a moment for the Phantom to dissect what she had said, as she stood before him, breathing heavily, her eyes wide.

They stood before each other, chest to chest, mere inches apart, for what seemed an eternity.

"He's nowhere to be- Christine?" Raoul walked in, only to witness a black figure scamper out onto the balcony. Having bad experiences with black scampering figures, he was immediately concerned for his wife's wellbeing, and his own marital status.

Without a second thought he rushed out onto the balcony, looking blindly into the darkness. Frustrated at finding himself alone, he looked around, darting behind the doors and banging them against the wall as he moved. Letting out a defeated grunt, he didn't notice the figure clinging to the side of the building as he walked back to his flustered wife.

"You alright?" He request, firmly placing his hand on her forearm and gripping it hard, as if trying to keep her from being snatched away again by that monstrous excuse of a man.

She flinched, but it had nothing to do with how hard he touched her. "Fine," she said, her voice wavering as she pathetically nodded. Slightly reassured, Raoul dropped his arm back to his side.

"Couldn't find a trace of Hammerstein," he announced as he headed toward the direction of the globe storing a supply of brandy that should keep him satisfied for a few minutes, and calm his nameless worry.

"Who?" Raoul gave her a look. "Oh! Yes! Hammerstein…" Christine looked down at her hands as she fiddled with them, trying to find something to distract Raoul from perusing a certain train of thought. At the mention of Hammerstein, a thought entered her mind. "Oh! Raoul, I've had an offer."

Raoul interpreted this as a very _different_ kind of offer, and immediately turned near purple with rage. Christine, as she looked up, noted this and quickly tried a different approach.

"Raoul, not that, of _course_ not that," she was about to add _I love you_, but decided that would be pushing it a little too much, almost begging him to differ. "Twice Hammerstein's offer, Raoul. _Twice_,"

Raoul considered. "I see," was all he said as he downed his second glass of brandy and poured another. "What are the conditions? And who is this mysterious man who should seem so desperate for a performance?"

Christine opened her mouth, then closed it, frantically looking around for help. Then she spotted it. Sitting on the grand piano, was a piece of paper. Praying it was a contract, she moved to the piano. Glancing it over, she looked up at her husband and held up the piece of paper.

Raoul strode over and put his half-empty glass of brandy on the piano as he took the contract. Picking up his glass again, he made his way to the couch **(A/N: the fainting couches they had. Don't know what they're called, sorry!) **and sat down at the edge of it, as he placed the contract and the glass – after taking a sip – on the small table in front of him. Putting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his fists, he read over the conditions.

At the sudden rejection, a stunned Christine watched her husband as he lifted the glass to his lips again. She opened her mouth to protest, but all that came out was a squeak. Raoul looked at her, eyebrows raised.

"Raoul," she began, weary of this man's temper. "Raoul, please don't drink anymore," her voice, capable of producing such glorious sounds, sounded small.

Obliging, Raoul placed the glass back on the table, eyebrows still raised and eyes wide with frustration, lips pursed. With a flourish of his hand to the glass, he looked back up at his wife.

Christine gave him a quick smile that was nothing more than upturned lips, before declaring herself tired and retiring for the night.

As she stepped over the threshold to the master bedroom and shut the door, she let all the air in her lungs escape with a dramatic sigh. Thoroughly resigned at the emotional turmoil of the past half an hour, she sat in front of her dresser and looked at the reflection staring back at her. With robotic hands, she began to unpin her hair, letting one curl cascade down her shoulders at a time. Without thinking she undressed and slipped a nightgown, fully adorned with lace and frills that seemed to scream _"Vicomtess!" _and finally let her mind wander to her Angel of Music, who, after ten years, had finally sought her out.

Climbing into bed, she tried to imagine how events would unfold in the next few days, with her son's real father now back in her life with full knowledge of Gustave's paternity. Feeling a burn in the back of her eyes from unshed tears, she forced them down and tried to lull herself into sleep by closing her eyes and ceasing her quest at picking out a spark of white in the dark shadows of her bedroom. She knew he wouldn't come. It was hardly proper, after all, a man of no blood relation (or any relation of all for that matter!) sneaking into a married woman's bedroom in the middle of the night. But still her eyes hunted for something she never found.

The sound of Raoul pouring a drink (that no doubt contained alcohol) was finally her undoing. She let the salty tears fall from her eyes, drizzling down her cheeks and landing in her sea of hair, or seeping into the pillow. The only sound was a little whimper from her throat now and then, with the occasional sniffle.

When at last every last drop of water in her body seemed to have exited her eyes, was she finally thoroughly spent and able to succumb to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ok, after re-reading that, it moves a bit too fast in the beginning. Sorry if it seemed like that - it went slower in my head lol. **


	2. Winning

**A/N: Yayyy thank you WeLoveWeLive (cool name btw!) for being the first person to add this story to your fav's list! You make me feel special =) And sorry about the stupid indents that aren't there. Something's weird when I upload it… I have no idea where this will go or if I'll even finish it. Here's a short chapter 'cause I can't think of anything else… enjoy and please review! =)**  
><em><strong>Disclaimer: If I did own Phantom or LND, why would I be writing this?<strong>_

* * *

><p>The Phantom sat on his leather couch, head in his hands, elbows on his knees, half-empty glass of red wine on the table in front of him. He rarely turned to alcohol, but he felt like nothing else would be good enough to calm his brain that was racing like a hamster in a wheel: never stopping.<p>

Over the past decade, he had told himself that he could move on from Christine. These were lies of course, and he knew it, but it was all he could do to stop himself from letting himself slowly waste away. A day didn't go by when he didn't think of her. It was his first thought when he woke up and the last before he slept during the short hours that he did. He had lived his life in perfect solitude these forty-something years, so why should that change now? That was his little mantra over the years. He had tried, oh how hard he had tried! To put her out of his every thought, every dream…

But now, things were different. He had seen her. He had touched her. He had pressed his cheek into her corseted abdomen as he sang to her of passion and love. And now, he wondered how he had managed as he had; or why it was even worth it! He knew now he could not let her go. He _would_ not let her go like last time. Now he had an advantage: his son. And he was going to use his new playing piece as best he could…

…And he was going to win.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Du du duuuunn! *plays dramatic music* getting exciting, yes? Please tell me what you think! I'll be updating in the next couple days, or maybe hours. We'll see =) Please review, my lovelies! And I'll come up with some erik-themed prize for you all… Hehehehe…**


	3. Midnight Snack

**A/N: Don't have much to say… Just review review**_** review!**_

**Disclaimer: Getting really tired of disclaimers… *sigh* don't own POTO or LND… *sniffle***

**And now, we return to our favorite (not!) fop…**

* * *

><p>He downed his fourth – fifth? – glass of brandy. Or maybe it was whiskey…? It was something with alcohol, and that was perfectly fine. Raoul glared down at the so-called "contract," and let out a frustrated grunt, pulling his hands through his hair.<p>

And who was this mysterious "Mister Y" anyway? Everything from Christine's sudden behavior, to this damned piece of paper was downright suspicious, Raoul decided. He could just turn it down, he realized. Accept Hammerstein's offer and toss this contract into the flames and be done with it.

But, no. Raoul was a greedy man. His idiocy had landed him, his beloved wife, and his son in debt. Debt he didn't see them escaping in the near future. But this, this could solve his problems. This sum would pay off about three quarters of his debt, and being the lazy fop he was, he decided to go ahead with this new request, consequences be damned.

With a flourish of his hand, he scrawled his name on the dotted line. His signature wasn't as beautiful as it had been, in fact, it was more of a messy scribble.

Trying to bring his glass to his lips again, he only succeeded in knocking it over, dampening the foor with the little liquid left inside, and shattering little bits of glass around is feet.

Trying to control his sudden rage, he drunkenly stumbled to the master bedroom, and clumsily stripped everything but his trousers and shirt, before falling into bed with a grunt and staring for a moment into the sea of curls in front of his face. When a single hair brushed his nose, he batted it away like a fly, waking Christine with a gasp. Raoul rolled over, taking most of the blankets with him, and thanks to the massive doses of alcohol in his blood, easily fell asleep in less than half a minute.

Christine, however, was not so lucky. Her pulse was still racing through her muscles after the sudden movement had awoken her. Lying on her side, now cold, facing the wall, Christine decided this simply would not do and stood up, wrapping her robe around her slim waist and tying it tight. Making her way to the small hotel kitchen, and preparing a cup of tea.

A few minutes later, Christine emerged onto the balcony, pulling her silky robe tighter around her chest. She lifted the china cup to her lips and took a sip of tea, closing her eyes and sighing as the honey she had added slid across her tongue like gentle waves on a shore.

Opening her eyes again, she traced a thin finger around the rim of the cup, studying the intricate leaves and flowers painted on the delicate china. Such a beautiful little cup, that had taken hard work and patience to create, and yet with one movement, be it accident, anger, or purpose, all the beauty could be reduced to nothing but shards.

It reminded her of her relationship with her Angel of Music. Woven together with lies, and in one moment, totally shattered.

Letting out one more sigh, she took another sip, before again clasping her robe tighter to her chest and leaning against the wall, letting the heat seep through her veins.

Closing her eyes and letting her mind wander, she didn't notice when a figure heaved himself over the railing. She only awoke from her reverie to the sound of feet hitting the cold stone of the balcony, opening her eyes wind and letting a gasp escape her lips, as the teacup slipped from her grasp and crashed to the ground in an explosion of destroyed china.

"Oh! I – I'm so – Oh – Sorry – I…" Christine was instantly on her knees, daintily placing the jagged pieces of china into her palm, ignoring the stinging sensation is the sharp ends punctured her flesh.

"Here, let me help you," The Phantom knelt down in front of her, picking up more pieces, his calloused hands resisting the pointed edges. Only when their hands brushed did they look into each other's eyes, both suddenly leaning forward…

"Mother?" Gustave walked into the main room, hair disheveled and rubbing his eyes. The Phantom cleared his throat awkwardly, Christine shade by shade turning scarlet.

"Oh – Gustave! What are you doing up, darling?" she asked, walking inside with the broken china cupped in her hand, the Phantom right behind her.

A look of confusion overtook Gustave's features which were a mix of the two people before him, as he noticed the man with his mother. "Mister Y?" he questioned. "What are you doing here?"

The Phantom opened his mouth at a loss for words, for the second time in the last few hours. "I – Uh – I – Um…" What exactly could he say? _"Well, you see Gustave, I was hoping to have a very private, in depth conversation with your mother but in the shock of seeing me she dropped her cup…"_ Hardly. "Your mother dropped her teacup… I was helping her clean up." It was lame. And if this boy was anything like himself, he would see right through it.

Gustave's brow stayed knitted as he simply said, "Okay…?" But he had learned not to pry into strangers private affairs, so he stayed silent.

Eager to switch the subject, Christine used her spare hand to place on her son's shoulders and lead him into the kitchen where she disposed the remains of the once beautiful china cup in the bin, the Phantom doing the same. "Are you alright Gustave? Why are you up? Did you have a nightmare?"

Gustave shook his head. "No, I heard a crash."

"Well everything's alright now, Gustave. Why don't you go to bed," she said, trying to politely get her son back to sleep.

"I'm hungry, Mother." Christine bit her lip. God, was he going to pull out all the stops before she got alone time with her Angel of Music? She at least wanted to know his name, after all these years!

"Alright Gustave, one small snack and then it's off to bed with you, young man!" Gustave nodded as he climbed into a chair at the dining room table. The Phantom leaned against the kitchen bench, arms crossed, and discreetly took in every detail of his son. He had Christine's eyes and nose, but his facial shape and lips – minus the deformity. And his hair was a strange but beautiful combination of Christine's lush, shimmering brown locks and his own thin, pale, wispy strands.

As Christine gracefully moved about the kitchen, the Phantom noticed Gustave thumping his fingertips against the wooden table in a rhythm. "What are you doing?" he politely inquired. Gustave ceased his actions and turned his head, then smiled. He was smiling!

"Making up music," he simply returned before smiling again and returning to his composition.

Christine looked over her shoulder, and then at the man who was now looking at her and her son, and quickly hustled about twice as fast as before.

"Here you are," she said, placing a mug of steaming hot chocolate on the table. "Should help put you right to sleep." She gave a motherly smile before kissing her son's head and returning to the kettle. She poured some boiling water into another china cup, and was about to pour a second when she took a deep breath and lifted her head, giving a false smile. "Would you like a cup of tea, _Mister Y_?" she asked.

The Phantom looked up, opening his mouth to object when Christine's eyes widened and she barely nodded her head to Gustave who was dipping his finger in his hot chocolate and licking it. For the sake of appearing normal, he replied with a simple "Yes, please," before taking his cup and saucer from Christine. She took a seat next to Gustave as he reluctantly did the same.

"Gustave, don't be silly – you're making a mess!" Christine took Gustave's hand and cleaned his fingers.

"Sorry, Mother," he replied, giggling slightly. Turning his head to his other companion, he asked, "Mister Y, can you still show me Phantasma tomorrow?"

"Of course, little Vicomte, I would be happy to, but first you must rest. We can't have you falling asleep during our tour, now, can we?" Christine smiled and Gustave giggled again as he took a swig of his hot chocolate.

Christine let out a sigh as she leaned back in her chair and took a sip of tea. They sat in rather comfortable silence until Gustave had finished.

"Come now Gustave, back to bed," _for the third time, tonight!_ Christine added in her mind as she picked up Gustave's empty mug and put it in the sink for washing tomorrow. Gustave hopped off his stool as Christine directed him back to his room, nodding for the Phantom to follow. As they passed the grand piano, Gustave ran up onto the bench and hit a note, piercing the silence of nighttime. Christine cringed. "Not now, Gustave! Ra- _Your father_ is sleeping!"

Gustave sadly nodded and apologized before allowing himself to be led to his room. As she tucked him in, and was about to kiss him goodnight, Gustave suddenly asked, "Mother, will you sing something for me? Please?"

Sighing, Christine obliged. "Alright, darling. What would you like me to sing?"

"Sing that song that you sang to me today…" Christine nodded and took in a breath of air.

The Phantom, watching from the threshold, felt his heart rate doubled. She was going to sing. After ten years of silence, he would hear her sing once more. He unconsciously leaned forward in anticipation…

**A/N: I really hate lyrics in stories, it bugs me, so [Insert lyrics to **_**Look With Your Heart**_** here]**

Gustave was asleep before Christine finished the last line. She smiled and stroked his cheek, before kissing it and tucking him in. Turning her head and noticing the Phantom standing there, she beckoned him. His eyes widened and he pointed to his chest, "_Me?_" he mouthed.

"_Yes,_" she mouthed back as he reluctantly stepped into the room. He stood next to the bed, hands behind his back, as he watched his son sleep.

Christine stood up and gently pressed his back forward, giving him an encouraging smile and gesturing to the boy. The Phantom was now thoroughly confused. What was he supposed to do? He didn't interact with children very often. They were usually too frightened by his mask, and he didn't really enjoy their shrieking whines. He sat down on the edge of the bed, ever so carefully, as Christine retreated a few steps back.

The Phantom looked at the sleeping child, struck by how he seemed to be the perfect combination of Christine and himself. He placed his cool hand on Gustave's warm cheek, and savored the feeling of the smooth flesh that hadn't yet been scarred or wrinkled. Hardly rendering his movements, he placed a light kiss to his nose, as Christine smiled in the darkened corner. As the Phantom sat there, dumbstruck at the small smile that was now forming on Gustave's lips, Christine blew out the candle on his bedside, and patted the Phantom's shoulder as he followed her out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Aha! I decided to end with a bit of a cliffy after such a long chapter. I'm very excited to hear what you think =) Please review! Erik-lollipops to all who do! Hey that rhymed… Lol. Anyway, that's the second chapter in about an hour and a half. Please let me know what you think! I don't know yet where this will go, but I have an idea for the next chapter, and I'll just let my mind wander from there. Next chapter should be up tomorrow-ish, maybe a little later. Bye and please review!**


	4. Breathing

**A/N: I just finished Chapter 3 and I'm starting 4… yay! I'm very excited =) It's getting late so I probably won't finish it tonight though… Oh well… I eagerly await your reviews! :D **

**And here we go – after this disclaimer. Wah. **

**Disclaimer: GRRRRRRR… I DON'T OWN POTO OR LND! Get the point already!**

**Mmmm… I smell a barbeque… right – on with the story!**

* * *

><p>Christine directed the Phantom back to the kitchen where their cups of tea were still waiting. They were silent. The Phantom was speechless, and Christine merely didn't know what to say. As Christine sat back in her chair, she looked up at the imposing man before her expectantly.<p>

He looked back at her, and they said nothing. Until Christine broke the silence.

"Would you like your tea?" she gestured to the cup. Broken from a trance-like state, the Phantom nodded and gracefully sat down, fingering the cup. Christine sighed, trying to come up with something to say.

"I – "

"You –"

"Oh, no you first –"

"No, you spoke first –"

"Please, I inisist,"

Christine smiled and began to speak. "I must say, I did not expect to find you on my balcony in the middle of the night."

The Phantom smiled, well, grimaced seemed to be a better description. Before looking back at her eyes. Oh, those eyes… He could get lost in them forever…

He sighed, feeling totally helpless. He looked down into his tea, searching for an answer in the shallow cup. A sudden movement made him look up as Christine shoved her hands under the table, giving him a painful smile as the tears she didn't thought she had left in her pooled at the bottom of her vision.

Immediately concerned, he raised from his chair and knelt before her, prying Christine's palms away from her knees.

"Christine, my dear, please, let me see,"

"No, really – it's nothing,"

"If it's nothing then let me see," he growled.

Giving in with a sigh, Christine reluctantly lifted her palms for his inspection, wincing as she did so. The Phantom sucked in a quick breath between his teeth. Christine's beautiful hands, were now scratched, cut, and bleeding. Gently gripping her wrists he brought her over to the sink, filled a shallow basin with luke-warm water before plunging her hands into it. She hissed as the soap he had added to clean out her wounds stung the little cuts in her hands.

"You shouldn't have been so careless when you picked up the china," he said lowly. Christine was about to point out that it was his fault she had dropped it in the first place, but just smiled and shook her head. Over-caring. That was her Angel of Music. This brought something else to her mind.

"Um… I don't actually…" how was she going to say this? She was already turning pink with embarrassment.

He was stroking her palms, gently trying to extract all remains of china from her flesh, but paused to turn his gaze to her, his chin still nearly on his chest. "Yes, Christine?"

She sighed and shook her head, looking at the water that was now a light shade of crimson. "I don't know your name," she said quietly.

Her Angel of Music chuckled, beginning to massage her hands again. "Erik," he said finally.

Christine blinked. She blinked again. Erik? That was it? Just Erik? She didn't know what she had been expecting, but "Erik" seemed almost too simple for the complicated man that was now inspecting her hands before removing them and placing them on a fluffy towel. "Erik…" she whispered. She smiled.

Erik gently rubbed the towel against her hands, trying not to cause her anymore pain. "There," he said when he was finally finished.

Christine grinned as she held her hands out before her, flipping them up and down. "Good as new,"

Erik rolled his eyes. "Just promise me you won't go picking up shattered china unprotected,"

Christine laughed quietly. She rarely saw this side of him. The side that was relaxed, sarcastic, and silly. This wasn't the Phantom, or Angel, no this was _Erik_.

They were both brought back to reality when she suddenly yawned. When she opened her eyes again, she noticed Erik had returned to that immovable gentlemen that she found oh so very vexing. She sighed, and he did too.

"Come, my dear, you need your rest," he said as he gently took her hand and guided her to the bedroom. Christine knew trying to escape his grasp would be fruitless, and she was very tired, so she gave in and let him lead her.

"Erik, I…" he had stopped. Why had he stopped? She put a hand to his shoulder as he stood frozen before her.

"Say it again, Christine," he breathed.

"What?" she was confused.

"Say my name again… Call me Erik…"

She smiled. "_Erik…_"

Erik closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the sound linger in his ears. After a moment of utter bliss, he shook himself out of his reverie, and opened his eyes only to find Christine gazing up at him, a small smile tugging at her lips.

He wanted to kiss her. Oh, how he wanted to kiss her! His decade-long deprivation of her was like being held underwater for eternity, and suddenly being released to float back to the surface, gasping for air. But he knew what would happen. This air was toxic. Breathe it in, and it poisons your lungs, then seeps through your body, slowly killing you.

No, he could not give in, he could not breathe. He had gone so long without air, he could go longer. Just until he would sink back into the deep depths of loneliness, and despair.

Turning back to the man of stone, he looked as the smile instantly fell off her face when she noticed he had returned to the numb façade he was oh so used to.

"Erik, I wanted to talk to you,"

"We'll talk in the morning, Christine, you need your rest,"

"It is the morning," she pointed out, after glancing at the grandfather clock. Indeed, it was near to one o'clock in the morning.

"Christine," he said, feigning annoyance. He couldn't let her break through his shell again; tempt him to breathe.

She hung her head in defeat, and walked to the door, slightly opening it, just enough so that Erik could get a glimpse of that fop she called her husband sprawled out across the bed. She would have no room to sleep.

Never taking her eyes off his, she ran up and placed a lingering kiss to his unmasked cheek, hand on either one of his shoulders. When she pulled back, she looked into his shocked face, and was about to pull the mask away to kiss his other cheek, when his eyes turned to fire in a glare that served as her warning. Nodding, she let go of the corner of his mask close to his chin that she had begun to pull away.

She walked away and was about to walk into the bedroom, when she turned her face back to his, and gave him one last genuine smile at his shocked face, before disappearing for the night.

Erik stood there. He would have stood there forever, hand frozen on the place where her lips had touched his flesh. There was the sound of bed sheets being moved and the grunt of Raoul as she no doubt moved him out of the way to make room for herself.

If Erik had his mind back in his own control, he would have growled. But he couldn't. Because Christine had just kissed him, and he knew he had done it. He had taken a breath. And he could feel it already begin to poison him, slowly, and he knew that now he had a taste of air he couldn't stop breathing.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Wow. I finished it. It's now 10:23pm, and I don't know where this is gonna go, but Raoul-lovers, be warned, you won't like this. Anyway, I don't know how this is gonna fit in with the rest of the chapters, especially chapter 2, but anyway, PLEASE REVIEW! **


	5. Sunlight

**A/N: Hi again! Thank you my anom reviewer, you made me feel really happy when I woke up =) And in response to your question, I am basing my characters off the Australian cast. I saw it in Melbourne 3 times, and London once. I found the Australian production 1000x better, and saw it twice with Treant Heath as Gustave (sorry about spelling!) and once with Kurtis Papadimis. So it's probably going to be closer to Trent. And quite honestly, I have no idea where this is going either. I'm just gonna re-read everything then just keep writing, and we'll just see where my mind takes us. Hope you enjoy – BYE! And please please please-with-an-erik-on-top review! =)**

**Disclaimer: Guess what? Oh you can't guess? I don't own phantom or love never dies! **_**Shocker**_**, right?**

* * *

><p>Erik made his way back out to the balcony, leaning on the railing and staring out into his world. Phantasma was dark now, shut down for the night, but his sharp vision and familiarity with the place allowed him to pick out the silhouette of the rides, and the endless darkness that was the ocean. He closed his eyes and allowed the gentle rhythm of the waves to soothe him…<p>

When he opened his eyes once more, he was about to make his way back to the hell he called his home, when he noticed a little puddle on the balcony where Christine's tea had splattered. Smiling slightly, he walked back inside, took the same towel he had used to dry her hands,and held it up to his face to inhale her scent.

Closing his eyes, he sighed before lowering his hands and stepping back onto the balcony to clean up the mess, the dark fluid staining the pure white. Dabbing it around until every last drop had been absorbed, he moved back to the kitchen and placed the towel in the sink before running a quiet stream of water on it with some soap, rinsing out the tea.

Wringing out the soaking towel, he placed back in its place before noticing the teacups still half-full and sitting on the table, along with Gustave's mug sitting in the sink. He cleaned all three items, ever so quietly, before replacing them and making sure that not a speck of dust had been altered.

Satisfied that there was no trace of his work, he made his way through the darkened Phantasma, never once making a wrong turn in the pitch blackness. Only many hours later, after he had played out some random melodies on his piano, and the first rays of morning were beginning to tinge the ocean navy, did he finally rest.

**A/N: Ok, I hate switching POV's halfway through, but unless you want a really short chapter it's kind necessary. So now, back to Christine…**

Christine awoke to seagulls circling the ocean, the pink sun of morning raining into her room through the large window. Smiling and sighing, she sat up and noticed Raoul was still out beside her. And he would have one hell of a hangover when he awoke. Deciding it was best to avoid her already grouchy husband, Christine stood and stretched, before making her way to the kitchen.

She was halfway through making herself a cup of tea, when she noticed a slight chip on the side of the cup, about half an inch away from the handle. She remembered the teacup she had used last night while sitting with Gustave, and how it had had an identical chip. Curious, she emptied the cupboards of all the china, evaluating each one for any flaw.

Chrisitine's search turned up nothing. But unless she had been sleepwalking, she didn't recall cleaning up. Replacing the teacups she had pointlessly emptied, she walked out onto the balcony and let her face absorb the early morning sun. Despite the fact she had gone to bed late, and then woken up yet again a little while later, she didn't feel tired, but calm and refreshed. She looked down at her teacup and traced a finger around the rim – avoiding the chip – as she had last night. Remembering the teacup she had dropped, she turned her gaze to the balcony floor where she took in the flawless stone. _Strange,_ she thought. _There should at least be a trace of tea…_ Her jaw fell slightly open, before she smiled. _Erik must have cleaned up,_ she realized. Christine suddenly felt guilty. He had cleaned up after her, after all she had done to him.

Smiling again, she finished her tea and walked back to the kitchen to wash her cup, before retreating to her room to dress.

As she shed her nightgown and began to lace up her corset after equipping her undergarments, Raoul awoke. As Christine stood, back to him and staring out the window at the glittering ocean, Raoul groaned and pulled a pillow over his head.

"Good morning," was all she said as she turned to him.

Her reply was a grunt.

Christine walked to the other side of the bed, and sat in front of Raoul's chest. She was struggling to tie her corset, and even though the thought of Raoul's alcohol-reeking fingers touching her made her fell ill, she had no choice.

"Lace me up, will you, Raoul?" she held out the strings to him as he groaned and sat up, gripping his head as he did so. He took the strings from her hands and jerked each one tight as she gasped. Christine gritted her teeth as her abdomen and most of her vital organs were constricted to a tightness that couldn't be healthy.

As he finished and tied the strings at the small of her back, she stood once again and pulled on a gold skirt with a matching coat, and pinned a hat atop her head once her hair was in its usual pile, save a few curs escaping down her neck.

Raoul laid there, watching her. Christine seemed cheerful, and he was instantly hurt as he felt betrayed that just the thought of singing again could have such an impact on her emotions.

When her appearance was complete, she stood up and patted Raoul's leg, encouraging him to get up, and left the bedroom. Raoul groaned once again as he sat up and let his legs slide over the edge of the bed. Running a hand through his hair, he stood, and groaned once again. He had had more hangovers than most people did in their lifetime, but they still hit him with the same force each time he woke to find his head throbbing.

In a daze, he robotically dressed himself, not bothering to check himself in the mirror. Running a hand through his hair again, he roughly pulled the curtains together and let out a sigh at the darkness that seemed to cut his headache in half. Wanting nothing more than to simply fall into bed and sleep until his head was bearable, he focused on the door as he opened it and went to face his family for the morning.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ok and there you go! Please review =) You guys should love me- I've been updating multiple times a day. Oh, and right now I can't really think of anything, and the last thing I want to end up doing is retell the entire story that we all know. So please, tell me what you want to happen! I don't care how crazy it is, I'll make it work somehow, and I'll try to use all the ideas I get, if any. So if you want this to be interesting then please give me ideas! Haha ok I'll shut up now… Just please review! **


	6. Waking

**A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you so much for you reviews! =D And in response to LNDcrazygirl, yes the Australian version is that much better. You should definitely try and see it if you can. It's playing in Melbourne now at the Regent Theatre 'til about Christmas time, then to Sydney and they're touring for about two years. It was absolutely phabulous and like I said – you should see it if you can. (Watch this: .com/watch?v=i8O6Ix0TAMk&playnext=1&list=PL4109A74A17CCF8C5) And also thanks a lot for your ideas! I'll definitely incorporate them into the story as best I can and try to keep it exciting. =) After a bit of thought, the next two chapters are all I could really come up with. Thanks for your reviews!**

**Disclaimer: Don't. Own. Phantom. Of. The. Opera. Or. Love. Never. Dies. Deal. With. It.**

* * *

><p>Erik awoke hunched over his piano, with a terrible ache in his shoulders and back. His mask was halfway off his face, and had left a dent in the side of his twisted cheek. Grunting in discomfort, Erik rolled his shoulders, adjusted his wig and mask, before stretching his arms out in every way possible. Finally standing up, he arched his back until it finally let out a satisfying crack. Sighing in relief, Erik noticed that his clothing was in a total disarray and went to his room to wash his face and change into a fresh suit.<p>

As he gently rinsed his delicate skin he tried to remember what possessed him to return to Christine last night. Indeed, he had been quite surprised to find her awake on the balcony, and was even more shocked at the way she reacted to him. No screaming or yelling. No anger. Just happiness, as if she were greeting an old friend after so many years apart.

He told himself it was to simply be close to her. He wouldn't wake her or peek in while she was asleep, he would just sit at the grand piano in her hotel room and enjoy the feeling of knowing she was only a few footsteps away.

Erik was a very good liar. Unless, of course, he were lying to himself. He knew the real answer.

Erik had kept a very close eye on the de Changy family over the years. Therefore, he also knew about Mr. de Changy's… financial "situation" at the moment. This was why he was confident he would be able to get Christine to perform at his concert hall instead. However, he was also aware of Raoul's drinking problems. And the question constantly burning at the back of his mind after all these years was if Christine still loved him the way she loved her knight in shining armor ten years ago?

Of course, he didn't know how he would find the answer by visiting her in the middle of the night. It was quite obvious they shared the same bed, as did most husband and wives, but still Erik wondered.

And then there was, of course, the matter of Gustave. Never in his entire pitiful existence did he conceive the possibility of a son. And tomorrow he was going to show Gustave what would someday become his.

He couldn't just come out and say it. _"Hello, Gustave, in case you weren't aware – I'm your father!"_ He did want to friend the child though. Gustave would probably find out eventually, but he didn't know if he would prefer it sooner or later. Perhaps he could drop a few hints. Yes, that would work…

…What if Gustave figured it out first?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ok I don't really like how I wrote this chapter. It's kinda messy. I'll proably rewrite it eventually. But thank you LNDcrazygirl you are my inspiration for this chapter – thank you, thank you, thank you! I think I have a good idea for the next 3-4 chapters… but please keep giving me ideas if you have any - anyone! Please review and enjoy!**


	7. Breakfast

**A/N: LNDcrazygirl I love you! You make me want to continue writing, which is why I am at close to 1:30 in the morning. And in the last chapter, that weird link was a youtube link. It's the Coney Island Waltz scene in Australia – and it's absolutely stunning. I hope you can see it soon. I'm pretty sure it's the Aussie version that will go to Broadway if any LND productions do, so maybe it will stop by in England for a bit so you can see. **

**Disclaimer: I'm not gonna come up with anything creative… I don't own Love Never Dies, surprise surprise.**

**Now, we last left Christine walking out of her bedroom…**

* * *

><p>As Christine shut the door behind her, she crashed directly into Gustave who was already dressed for the day. Her son never needed much sleep, which was why he showed no signs of fatigue after being interrupted so many times last night. He was so much like his father…<p>

"Good morning," Christine smiled as she greeted her son. She hadn't felt this elated in many years.

"Good morning, Mother," was all he said as he raced off to the kitchen.

"Wait, darling!" Christine called to her son as she chased after him. "You seem excited today," she pointed out as she started about making breakfast as Gustave sat at the table.

"Mr. Y is going to show me Phantasma, Mother! I can't wait – when do you think he'll take me?"

Smiling at her son's enthusiasm, Christine replied, "It's alright, Gustave, I'm sure he'll send for you when he's ready." Setting a warm croissant in front of Gustave, she took a seat next to him with yet another cup of tea (she used the chipped cup – she had become rather fond of it) and nibbled on a bowel of diced fruit.

Just then, Raoul came out, rubbing the back of his head as he squinted his eyes to try and keep out the sunlight.

"Good morning, Father," Gustave greeted as Christine inwardly cringed at how misplaced that title was.

Her own greeting, "Good morning, Raoul; sleep well?" showed no sign of discomfort, however. She seemed abnormally cheerful, as a matter of fact.

"Guess what, Father?"

Raoul plunked himself down in the chair where – Christine noticed with a slight sadness and guilt – Erik had sat just the night before.

"Cup of coffee, Raoul?"

"Eh…? Oh! Yes please…" Christine noticed, as she had every other single time in the last six years, that he didn't address her as "darling," "my love," "Christine," or – god forbid – "my dear," as he had when they were so romantically in love. It stung her heart, but by now all the scabs had strengthened the skin underneath; she ignored the fact and made Raoul's drink.

"Father – guess what!"

"_What_, Gustave,"

"Mr. Y is going to show me Phantasma today!"

Christine froze, blood escaping her face in a single moment as realization dawned on her. Raoul did not know who Mr. Y really was, and more importantly, didn't know she had been in communication with him on such a _personal_ level as of late that Gustave would have met him, or at least corresponded with this stranger.

"Who?" Christine wasn't sure if Raoul had forgotten, or if he was as baffled as she was at Gustave's sudden outburst.

"Mr. Y, Father!" Oh, how those words fit together so perfectly… "He's going to show me all of Phantasma today, Father! I can hardly wait!"

Desperate for a distraction, Christine rejoined her family. "Yes, darling, and it's showing! You must slow down when you eat or else you will hurt yourself!" she placed Raoul's coffee in front of him, while she took the half-eaten croissant from Gustave and held it out of his reach until he had chewed and swallowed.

"Gustave, how do you know Mr. Y?" Raoul asked slowly while taking a sip of coffee.

Before Christine could come up with some reasonable excuse, let alone open her mouth, Gustave revealed everything.

"He was here last night, Father. Before you came home. And then again later…" A puzzled expression took over Gustave's features as he once again remembered Erik's strange excuse the previous night. He shrugged, before getting to more important matters. "And he promised me he'll show me _everything_ today, Father!"

Raoul was now thoroughly confused, upset, hurt, and in dire need of alcohol – regardless of his current headache. "I see," was all he said as he took another sip of coffee.

Christine no longer objected as Gustave devoured the remainder of his breakfast at inhuman speed. She wanted to get out of here – _now._ Raoul was already on the verge of discovering everything, and the fact that a man had been in their hotel room at an improper hour, and _alone_ with his _wife_ was already making him upset.

As soon as the last bite was in Gustave's eager mouth, Christine snatched the plate from under him and placed it on the kitchen bench before taking Gustave's coat off the hook and holding it out to him. Gustave stood up, still chewing, and slipped the coat over his shoulders before buttoning it up, and placed his hat on his head.

"Where are you going?" Raoul said around a mouthful of fruit he had taken from Christine's bowel with his own bare hands.

"I have to go rehearse, darling. We shall be at the theatre if you need us." Being the actress she was, she pasted a smile upon her face as she took Gustave's hand in her own and virtually dragged him outside with a false cheerfulness anyone would see through. Raoul, however, being tired and experiencing an awful hangover, along with confusion about everything else, didn't notice and once again felt the sense of betrayal at his wife's instant change at the thought of singing.

He sat there, letting the coffee slowly but surely wake him up, and the medicine he had taken work its wonders on his headache. One would think that after so many hangovers, Raoul would learn not to be so careless, but all his wife's constant nagging and his frequent discomfort were in vain, for he never passed a day without taking at least one or two good drinks. And those were very, very, very good days that were now becoming less and less frequent.

Soon draining his cup, he left it on the table to accumulate dust and whatever else wanted to crawl in there, before donning his jacket and hat and setting out after his wife and son.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So, there you go. I really hate Raoul. I think I'll make him evil… :D OK so I'm going to go work on the next chapter now because I'm feeling very inspired (thank you thank you thank you LNDcrazygirl!) And that should be up either tomorrow or in the next hour-ish. I hate it when people take forever to update, so I won't torture you with it. Please review!**


	8. Rehersals

**A/N: I'm beginning to wonder why I put these at the beginning and end of every chapter… oh well… please review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Love Never Dies, believe it or not.**

* * *

><p>Christine dragged her son through the wonders of Phantasma as it was waking up for another successful day. And yes, she dragged him, because Gustave would stop and stare in awe at anything and everything.<p>

"Come _on_, Gustave!" she nagged for the umpteenth time in the last five minutes. Giggling, her son caught up before she could tear his arm out of his shoulder.

At long last, (and many more frustrated tugs later) they made it backstage. Phantasma's main theatrical attraction, The Ooh La La Girl (Christine had heard about her very improper performances, and reminded herself to keep a close eye on Gustave the night of her debut), was rehearsing something that seemed to fit her title.

Distracting Gustave, she dragged him over to the piano where she had supposed she would rehearse with the man currently accompanying the other showgirls, after receiving a full tour of the facilities. However, the sight of a white half-mask did nothing less than shock her, and she made her way into a shadow and turned a corner into a deserted hallway, where she and Gustave, were fully alone with _Mr. Y_, as he was known here, save for the screeches coming from the rehearsal, which where thankfully much quieter.

"Good morning Christine, Gustave," Erik nodded to the both of them. Christine smiled sweetly in return, Gustave grinning and finding he could no longer restrain himself.

"Mr. Y, can we see Phantasma now?" Christine scolded her son, but Erik let out one of his rare laughs.

"Ah, little Vicomte, I assure you I shall not break my promise, however your mother needs to practice her singing. I thought perhaps you might like to help me. I hear you are very talented with music…" Gustave was saddened, then confused, then content. Music was as easy to him as breathing, and he loved hearing his mother's voice.

"Okay!" he happily replied as Erik chuckled and Christine was slightly paralyzed at his words.

"Follow me," Erik lead them down the hallway, before leading them out a backdoor of the theatre. Scampering around with unnatural grace, he directed them to what appeared to be a run-down old building, but as he let them inside, proved to be the exact opposite.

Christine and her son stood in awe at what they were facing. A grand piano dominated one corner, as half-built contraptions that neither of them could have imagined seemed to be slowly filling the place to the brim. There was also sheet music. Endless sheet music. On the piano, around the piano, everywhere.

As Erik lit a candelabra and placed it on the back of the piano, he seemed to notice this and grew extremely embaressed as he hastily apologized and tried to get his lair to resemble something close to neatness.

"I'm sorry – I don't usually have guests…" he said as he placed the last sheet on the back of the piano in a pile. Christine knew that she and Gustave where probably the first human beings to ever enter this space other than himself, and smiled apologetically.

"It's fine, it really is, Er- um, Mister Y." Although she found the sight of her Angel blushing downright… adorable? She hated the thought of him feeling guilty in any way.

Gustave seemed to have long ago given up the idea of politeness and dashed over to the piano and struck out a particularly dissonant chord. Christine cringed and was instantly ashamed of how her son was behaving in front of his own father.

"_Gustave!_" she glared as her son seemed to retreat back into himself.

"Sorry, Mother," he said, sighing.

"An apology isn't very helpful to _me, _young man," she had her hands on her hips and was leaning her head in the direction of Erik, who felt he was about to explode in a fit of laughter. Why, he could not figure out.

Sighing yet again, "Sorry, Mister Y,"

Erik's heart warmed, and felt the need to assure his son that he could do anything he wished around here. It was, after, someday going to belong to him. "It's quite alright, Gustave, please feel free to play the piano. I understand the urge to lose yourself in music…" He smiled knowingly at a very confused young boy, who gave an unsure smile back, before standing on his knees on the bench, and banging out some notes that Erik recognized was the end result of Gustave's tapping the table the previous night. If this boy was anything like himself, he knew, that after going to sleep, he had woken a short time later, to endlessly scribble out notes on sheets of paper. Yes, he felt he understood this child as if he had visited inside his mind…

Christine was very nervous. Erik seemed to be begging Gustave to make a connection, and she found it very peculiar. She watched as her son continued creating chords that you would think were totally wrong, but created these strange sounds that somehow purely expressed an emotion she could not name. Confusion, excitement, happiness… it was a mix of those three along with many others. But she felt as if it was exactly what Gustave was feeling.

Erik's brow knitted, as did his son's identical ones, as one particular chord cracked through the room, resonating as Gustave paused in his composition. Trying again, he changed one of the notes and Erik sucked in a breath full of air through his teeth. He knew the frustration of not being able to get the music to come out just as it did in his head.

He strolled over as Gustave tried another variation, only with similar results. "Here," he said as he guided Gustave's fingers to a different key. Trying the chord again, Gustave face lit up in a satisfied smile.

"Thank you, Mister Y! That's exactly what I needed…" And with that, he continued his song. When he was done, he looked up into the face of the man standing over him, as if asking for approval.

Erik smiled. He was enjoying fatherhood so far. "Very good, Gustave… Very good…" He smiled down at his son as Gustave grinned back.

Christine rushed over. "Alright Gustave," she said placing her hands on his shoulders, "I think that's all. Mister Y and I have to work."

Frowning, Gustave hopped off the bench and was about to retreat a little bit away, before Erik stopped him.

"Gustave… would you like to help your mother and I?" Christine had no idea what was going on, but Gustave seemed more than happy to help. He spun around and nodded excitedly.

"Do you think you could play the piano part while I help your mother with her singing?"

Gustave nodded and headed back to the piano before asking, "You know how to sing?"

Erik nodded. "Of course, little Vicomte. Indeed, it was I who first taught your mother to sing all those years ago…" He looked up into Christine's eyes as she opened her mouth then closed it. This was the last kind of behavior she had expected and she could find a reason for it.

Gustave was surprised, to say the least. "Really? Can you teach me, too? Mother sings so well,"

Erik chuckled. "Indeed, she does. Now, you start practicing the piano part, and I'll help your mother warm up. It's quite a difficult piece," he warned. "So don't hesitate in asking for help,"

"Okay, I won't," And with that, Gustave took one glance at the music before tackling the notes. Christine knew that on the first try, he would be close to perfection, and the second time, he would be exquisite. He was his father's son.

Erik lead Christine off to a part of the room further away from the piano, guiding her by the small of her back. However, the way the room was designed, no matter where you stood you could hear every little sound as it resonated off the walls. Christine had no doubt this was why he chose it.

"Now," he said as he straightened her posture and lifted her chin up. "Shall we start with some scales?"

Fifteen minutes later of piano chords and Christine's random notes clashing together in a way that could only make all three of them cringe, Erik decided she was ready to try the piece; as was Gustave.

"Alright, Christine, from the beginning, then." He gave a nod to Gustave as he began the introduction. Christine began the first lines. **(A/N: As I said, I hate lyrics in stories. If you know the play well enough, you know the lyrics well enough to **_**Love Never Dies**__) _A few seconds after she begun, she was immediately stopped.

"No, no, no, Christine. Pour your heart and soul into the music. Let your mind be filled with a moment where you felt you were truly experiencing pure love." Erik desperately hoped it was a memory of him, and not her excuse of a husband. "Now, again, straight from your part."

She sang again, this time getting halfway through the song before being interrupted again. Only this time it was not by Erik.

A woman who could be no more than three feet tall **(A/N: For those of you who don't know, Fleck is a midget in Australia)** came darting into the room, panting as she held a hand to her chest. Christine and Gustave stopped immediately, puzzled looks on their faces, as Erik spun around, anger and frustration on his features.

"What is it, Miss Fleck?" he requested rather rudely.

"Apologies, Master, but the Vicomte is requesting the Vicomtess." Erik thoroughly despised both terms, and the fact that they were being used together – especially since they involved Christine – only served to make his anger increase tenfold.

Waving his hand, he said, "Does he need her immediately? We are rehearsing!" He didn't mean to sound so angry, and he especially didn't wish to frighten little Gustave, but nonetheless he tone came out very harsh indeed.

"Sorry Sir," Fleck was still panting. "He says she is needed right away, sir,"

"It's alright, Erik," Gustave's face became even more confused, but Christine ignored him. "Gustave and I will come back later and practice another time – come along, darling," Christine reached out a hand for her son and Gustave was about to stand and take it, but Erik stopped them with a wave of his hand.

"No, Christine, it's quite alright. I'm afraid I have a terrible temper – as you well know – Go to your husband, I'll take care of Gustave for a little while."

Mother and son alike were stunned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course, now you must go before the Vicomte sends anymore of my employees running halfway across New York trying to find you," his attempt at humor was bitter.

Christine hugged her son goodbye and whispered, "Be good to Mister Y, Gustave," in his ear before turning away to be lead out of Erik's sanctuary by Fleck.

As the door closed, Erik and Gustave sighed at the same moment.

"Your name is Erik?" the younger boy asked after a few moments of somewhat awkard silence.

"Yes,"

"Oh. How do you know my mother?"

"I told you: I was her singing teacher."

"Do you care about her?"

Erik was slightly taken aback by the little boy's bluntness, but he himself had always been very direct and decided after a moment's consideration it was an admirable quality.

"Yes, I do. I care about her very much." Erik let out a sigh. "Now, little Vicomte," his tone returned to that of important business. "Would you like to write down that song of yours?"

Gustave nodded as he was handed a piece of blank staff paper and a pen. Over the next hour and a half, they together figured out the proper chords and notes to convey the proper emotion. Satisfied that his work was properly recorded, Gustave put it back on the piano and spread out the three sheets of paper.

"Aren't you going to sign your name?" Erik asked.

"Huh?"

"Here, I'll show you…" At the top of the first page, Erik wrote: _Composed by: Gustave de Changy. _

He presented it to Gustave, who only frowned and shook his head. Taking the pen, he wrote, _and Erik_, thinking for a moment he simply added,_ and Erik Y._

Erik hadn't been expecting that. The thoughtfulness almost brought tears to his eyes. Gustave stacked up his latest work and held it in his hands out to the older man.

"What? No – Gustave, I could never…"

"Please, Mister Y – Erik," Gustave pleaded, "I want you to have it. It's a present." He again handed it out to him, his hands only reaching his waist.

With a shaking hand, Erik took the papers oh so delicately, as if it was made from the china Christine had carelessly shattered. He breathed a "Thank you," but his voice broke from emotion. No one had ever been so kind before. Gustave truly was his mother's son.

"Erik, why are you sad?" Gustave was concerned. His gift wasn't supposed to upset him!

"I'm not," Erik reassured, patting the boy's head. "I'm just surprised, is all. Thank you very much, Gustave. I'll value this forever." He smiled, and it only grew when Gustave wrapped his short arms around Erik's chest. After a moment of initial shock, Erik returned the embrace, cherishing the moment.

Gustave pulled away, and Erik once again patted his head.

"Erik?"

"Yes, Gustave?"

"Why do you wear a mask? Mother said you were a magician…" Gustave stopped when he noticed Erik tense. He knew that he had been considerably rude, but he felt like he could be himself around Mister Y. Quite honestly, he enjoyed his company much more than his father's.

"Maybe I'll tell you later, Gustave," Erik turned away and began rearranging one of the numerous piles of music on his piano, placing Gustave's piece off to the side.

"I'm sorry for asking," Erik knew the boy was sincere, and felt slightly guilty at being so rude.

"It's alright, Gustave. I don't blame you for being curious. And maybe I _will_ tell you later," Erik wondered, based on how much he knew of his son, how he would react to his face. Even Christine, dear, sweet, innocent, Christine, who was the kindest and most accepting person on earth, had screamed in horror when she first glimpsed his excuse of a face. Gustave was young, and would probably be very frightened. No, first Erik would warm up to the boy to the point where he could never dream of disliking him, then he would warn him, with Christine present, and unmask himself… then he would hope for the best.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: That seems like a good place to stop. I really liked this chapter. I think it's the best so far. :) Okay I think I know where this is going now! Please review! Love you all – and keep giving me ideas if you have any! I'd love to incorporate them into what I have going. **


	9. A Date

**A/N: And now back to Christine… after this disclaimer and warning.**

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS RAOUL AND CHRISTINE PUTTING UP WITH EACH OTHER'S COMPANY FOR AN EXTENDED AMOUNT OF TIME. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED…**

**Disclaimer: Despite my hardest efforts, I still don't own Love Never Dies. But you have no idea how much I wish I did…**

* * *

><p>"This way," Fleck guided the woman more than twice her height through Phantasma which was now considerably more crowded. As they weaved between the crowds Christine couldn't help but let her mind wander to the two boys most near and dear to her heart that were together no more than five minutes away. And she also couldn't help but wonder if it had been a mistake to tell Erik. But the thoughts of what could happen if he thought Gustave was Raoul's son only made her heart break.<p>

And as she realized this, she couldn't help but wonder if now that she was being offered a second chance with her Angel of Music, if she would take it…? But she was thankfully brought out of this train of thought when they arrived at the theatre and she was guided backstage to a Raoul who seemed to be irritated at everything and calming at nothing.

When he turned his head and caught sight of her, he let out a sigh of relief. However, it seemed as if he were about to explode. "There you are! Christine, you had me worried sick. I thought you had been kidnapped by some half-dead freak! Don't you ever do that again, do you hear… Where's Gustave?" His tone turned from one of rage to one of puzzlement. He didn't seem worried about his so-called son's ware bouts, merely annoyed, frustrated, and confused. Christine knew Raoul was not the type that savored the feeling of being out of control.

"Mister Y is looking after him," As soon as the words left her mouth, Christine knew it was a mistake to utter them.

"What! You left our _son_ with in the care of a _stranger_? Have you totally lost your-"

"Raoul! It's alright – he's no stranger –" Christine began to wonder if Raoul was correct, and she was losing her mind. She couldn't imagine why else she would be saying this.

"Oh, he isn't is he? Yes, well why don't we discuss the identity of this mysterious-"

"Raoul! Raoul, please, it's alright, everything's alright, I promise you that." They were now being stared at, which Christine found surprising considering most freaks would be most careful not to stare at others.

Glancing around nervously, Christine took her husband's arms and directed him out of the theatre and into the crowded streets of Phantasma. Raoul was still fuming, and Christine tried to ignore his resistance as she lead him towards a café on the side of the street.

"Here, come on, Raoul, let's grab a bite to eat. We haven't some quality time with each other in a while…" Christine knew that the better part of an hour spent together over lunch would hardly be the best way to avoid a conversation about Gustave, so she tried to turn it into a date, nauseating as that sounded to her.

As they were lead to a table outside, Raoul seemed to have vented enough and requested a glass of wine. Deciding this would not be the best of times to protest her husband's drinking habits, Christine requested tea, and they were left to themselves.

Raoul was leaning back in his chair, one hand on the table, the other on his chin as he glared angrily at the passersby. Christine, leaned forward and placed her hand over his and began stroking it lightly. Their drinks came, and they were, once again, left to themselves.

"Christine," Raoul began. She looked up from her tea and gave him a false, reassuring smile.

"Yes, darling?"

He sighed. "I'm sorry, I guess I haven't been myself lately. You shouldn't have to put up with me,"

Knowing those words were perfectly true, she did what any dutiful wife would. "It's fine, darling. Things have been going rather fast lately,"

"Mmhmm…" They continued to drink in comfortable silence, save for the screeches of the riders, until Raoul once again spoke. "Christine, the reason I wanted to talk to you today was… because…"

**(A/N: You'll hate me for this, but I'm not nice enough to make him spontaneously divorce. Sorry!)**

"What is it, darling?" She continued to stroke his hand.

"Until I feel… more like myself… I'd like to get a separate hotel room." Christine's hand paused. "I just feel like, with the state I'm in right now, any company might make me explode. I don't want to hurt you," Christine took note of how he said nothing about hurting Gustave. "Do you understand?"

Once again talking with a false cheerfulness she had become quite good at delivering over the past ten years, Christine responded. "Of course, darling, Gustave and I will move out until you feel more comfortable." She smiled and looked him in the eyes, which widened.

"Christine, you don't have to –"

"No, really, Raoul, it's fine. You know Gustave, anyway, I'm sure he'd enjoy a little adventure. A change of scenery would be good for him."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely,"

"Thank you," And with that, Raoul stood and placed a random amount of money on the table, before taking his leave without even so much as a goodbye to his wife. Sighing, Christine finished her tea and gave a smile to the waiter as he came to clean their table as she left. By the way his eyes doubled in size, Christine assumed Raoul had placed more than enough money than was required for two drinks. This was how they had landed themselves in debt. Raoul was, to put it simply, careless.

Deciding now would be a good a time as any to move out, Christine made her way back to the hotel room and wasn't at all surprised to find it empty. Raoul was probably at the bar. And Christine was guiltily surprised to find for once, she didn't care.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Haha writing this made me crack up… please review! And so, to sum it up: Meg has no clue Christine is on Coney Island, Erik knows Gustave is his son, and is doing a good job at the whole father/son bonding thing, Madame Giry also doesn't know Christine is nearby, Raoul is deciding he doesn't care about Gustave and is going to spend some good quality time with himself and a bottle of wine, and Christine is now thouroughly confused. **


	10. An Invatation

**A/N: Ok this is my… 3****rd****… 4****th****? Chapter in about 3 hours. Which makes it close 4am but I'm on a roll so no way am I stopping! As always, I am desperate for reviews. What's new? The fact I don't own **_**Love Never Dies**_**? Yeah, right…**

* * *

><p>Packing hadn't been that difficult, given the fact they had only spent one night there and were mostly living from their suitcases anyway. After gathering her and Gustave's things, Christine exited the hotel and began navigating her way through the endless crowds, keeping her gaze above the sea of heads and instead on the theatre.<p>

Somehow managing to get through backstage unnoticed, Christine made her way through the darkened hallway and stumbled out the backdoor Erik had used. Only this time, she wasn't alone.

Two men, each looking homeless or extremely poor, were leaving the alley. However when they heard her grunt and the sound of luggage being put down, they turned. Christine shut the door behind her, unaware of the two men watching her, and rubbed her hands together after carrying the heavy bags. As she picked both pieces of luggage up again, one was knocked form her hand, and the other, she dropped in surprise.

"Hey, there, Miss," The first man grumbled. He was thin with rag-like clothing and a long, untamed black beard. He also reeked of what seemed every foul smell combined.

"Get away from me – and it's Madame," Christine kept her head down and reached down for the bag she had dropped, but it was kicked out of her reach.

"Not so fast there," This was the second man, and he had a similar appearance and stench to his companion. "What's a nice pretty lil' thing like you doin' here?" They were closing in on her. Christine heard a note. A loud note. Coming from the building she so desperately wanted to reach.

Gathering her courage and every technique Erik had ever taught her on how to project her voice, Christine screamed.

The result was instantaneous. Both men lunged at her and she sent kicks and scratches flying. No more than half a second later, Erik came flying out with Gustave hot on his heels, and let the Phantom in him loose.

Grabbing the first man, he sent a good punch to his gut before wrapping his hands around his throat, forcing the man who dared to assult his Christine, to look him in the eyes.

The second man, now noticing he was fighting an even battle, paused in his attempt of getting Christine to lie on her back. Taking this as a good opportunity, Christine sent a kick to his head, the heel of her boot catching his ear and making it bleed. The man stumbled to his feet and tried to back away.

"Oh, shit, it's her husband – come on let's go George," George, though, was in no state to move as Erik was now the Phantom of the Opera and currently strangling the life out of him. Right when it seemed too late, Erik dropped George and he crumpled to the ground in a heap.

He soon recovered though, and he and his friend were quickly out of sight.

"Mother!" Gustave exclaimed as he ran over to Christine who was in the process of sitting up and straightening out her skirts.

"Shh, shh, it's alright Gstave, I'm alright, everything's fine now." Gustave was whimpering in her arms and seemed on the verge of tears. She kissed his head twice and hugged him before letting go and taking Erik's extended hand to help her up.

She smiled as they made eye contact. "Thank you, Erik. Truly. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been so close. I really don't want to think about it either…" She let go of his hand to once again straighten her skirts and adjusted her hat which had become dislodged.

"Mother, why are our bags here?" Gustave was looking skeptically at the two pieces of luggage.

"Oh, Gustave… Um… We're…" She honestly didn't know how to put it without saying _"Raoul kicked us out,"_ and anything else would basically be a sugarcoated version of that. Pondering for a moment, she finally said, "You fa – _Raoul_ needs some alone time, Gustave. We're going to be staying somewhere else for a little while."

Gustave frowned. "Why doesn't he want us to stay with him anymore?"

"Oh, Gustave, it's not that. He just needs to be by himself for a little bit. I offered to move us out for a few days." She was standing so close to Erik. "The whole place reeks of alcohol," she added to him under her breath. He nodded, knowingly.

"Where will we stay, Mother? There isn't another hotel close by,"

"You can stay with me, if you like," Christine and her son both turned to Erik.

"No, we couldn't,"

"And why not? I have an extra bedroom, I assure you there isn't a drop of alcohol in the place," he had drunk his small supply of wine dry the previous night, "And we'll have the opportunity to rehearse every day."

It was, quite honestly, the perfect offer.

"Are you sure? We don't mean to intrude…" Erik suddenly realized that there would be quite the opportunity for Gustave to see his face. Regardless, he objected.

"Nonsense, I'd enjoy some company," A week ago he had been trying to convince himself not to dream of Christine. Just last night he had been confronting her for the first time in ten years. Later he had shared a pleasant midnight snack with his newfound son, telling himself not to value her presences too much for he knew he would never be able to let her go. This morning he had been rehearsing with her, and bonding with Gustave. And now he was inviting them to live with him for God knows how long. He honestly, didn't know what was wrong with him. Up until now, he had been convinced that his outward deformity hadn't affected his brain. Perhaps he had been wrong. "Please, I insist," he added.

Slowly, Christine nodded. "Very well," And then she realized she had absolutely no idea where he lived.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ok, so please tell me what you think of this. I don't know if I like it so I might change it. So far I've had a request for father/son bonding (I had no idea how to do it, but I think I liked how it turned out) and for Erik to hint to Gustave he was his father. I did both and I eagerly await any ideas you might have. Also, do you think I'm making Gustave a bit to rude? It seems like that to me… anyway, please review! And wow 10 chapters… I feel so accomplished. **


	11. Drunk

**A/N: Thank you WeLoveWeLive – I was literally sitting here after writing all night (it's now 6:30am) and waiting for a review because I seriously can't think of anything. Five seconds later I get a wonderful little email from you – thank you thank you thank you! (weird – all my notes seem to rhyme…) I'm not sure if I like the moving in idea so I might change it, and since I'm not totally sure yet we'll go back to Raoul. Rewarding you with that fop hardly seems appropriate, but, oh well, thank you again! Please keep all the reviews up cause they make my day!**

**Disclaimer: I'm too happy to be sad about disclaimers. I don't own LND. Darn.**

* * *

><p>Raoul was sitting in a bar, as usual, and drinking something… he didn't actually know what it was. He didn't actually care, either. He could feel the burning sensation in this throat that assured him it was alcohol, which satisfied his needs.<p>

He didn't know the time, but he could see the sky was beginning to grow orange so he guessed it must be close to sunset. Which meant it was roughly seven hours since he had last seen Christine. Seven hours in this bar.

Tipping another glass to his throat and emptying it just as quickly as the last… sixty? He placed it down and requested another. When he was informed that they no longer had that particular kind of brandy – some fancy kind from Mexico – he grunted something no father should say and placed some money on the bar before standing and taking his leave. He was pretty sure he heard the bartender calling to him that it wasn't enough, but he didn't listen. He might have been imagining the entire thing, anyway, and he didn't like wasting his time on things that weren't real.

Totally and utterly drunk, he stumbled back to his hotel room. He didn't know how he possibly remembered it was his – maybe it wasn't – but the door unlocked with the key he found in his pocket, and he let himself in and tripped on his way to the bedroom. Deciding the floor was comfortable enough, he conked out.

When he awoke with yet another splitting headache, he didn't know what time it was. He was still pretty tired, so it couldn't have been too long, and it was still very dark outside. Grumbling, he stood up and immediately wished he hadn't. Rubbing his head, he rushed out onto the balcony and emptied his stomach's contents on the pavement three stories below.

Somehow getting to the kitchen, he for once in the last day drank something that wasn't alcoholic. The water chilled his burning throat and seemed to help his stomach. He found some medicine – he didn't bother to read the label, but, he figured, it had to help somehow – for his headache and then sat in a chair and thought about what to do.

Christine or his son never once entered his mind.

Finally deciding on an activity, he got to his feet and made his way down to the road, not bothering to lock his door. Clumsily walking (and tripping on more than one occasion) he finally got to his destination with a little bit of vomit on his shoe – thanks to the inconsiderate person who had puked out their window or balcony. Raoul thought that was very rude.

Letting out a sigh that he was no longer surrounded by freaks or shrieking thrill-seekers, Raoul entered the brothel.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Wow. No idea where that came from. I really hate Raoul though, so I decided to make him the evil, inconsiderate, greedy, fop he is. Hehe. Lucky me. :) Next chapter will be the move-in chapter which I'll start working on right now. If I really hate it that much, I'll come up with something else. We'll see how it works out. Once again, I beg you with all my heart to review! Press that button! It's right there! You know you want to! **


	12. Dear Old Friends

**A/N: I think this is my 6****th**** chapter in the last 7 hours. Wow. I've been up all night. Oh well, I got to watch the sunrise which was a rare treat for me :) Enjoy this fop-free chapter because you know you deserve it! **

**Disclaimer: If I owned **_**Love Never Dies**_**, I would own **_**The Phantom of the Opera**_**, which would mean Erik would have killed Raoul, which would mean Christine would go with Erik, which would mean there would be no **_**Love Never Dies**_**. So there. Ha.**

**Hehe see if you can pick out the lyrics I randomly tossed in. When I read it in other fics it sounds lame, but I felt like doing it. Just be aware they aren't singing!**

* * *

><p>Christine was in the process of arranging her things. Erik's home was simple, and held that same haunting, melancholy beauty that it had below the opera house. It was one floor above his lair, and had a full view of Phantasma, as the walls were glass. However you would never be able to tell from the street.<p>

There was one large room, which took up most of the apartment, where there was an open area that served as a living room, a dining table behind it that could fit four people, a kitchen to the side of that, and a laundry at the end of the kitchen. Next to the living room there was a door. Behind that door was a hallway. Next to the original door was a bathroom. The two across from it were two identical bedrooms. One was for Christine and Gustave to share – Erik had made a cot for Gustave on the floor after Christine insisted he use his own bed for himself – and the other was Erik's master bedroom. He rarely used it however, as he found most nights hunched over his piano below, or the one in the living room. If he did sleep, he was certain it was more often on the piano bench than in his own bed. However, his attempts at convincing Christine to use it were in vain.

The walls were all white. All of them. A pearly, shimmering white that Christine noticed looked quite nice during the sunrise on her first morning there. The carpet was a tan color, and the couches were a dark brown leather. She was pleasantly surprised when she had first entered the place. She had been expecting dark, run down, uncomfortable living conditions. But, reflecting on that, she remembered Erik had always been the proper gentlemen. His perfect suits and neatness of his lair beneath the opera house – well at least when she visited – were proof of that.

Indeed, Christine didn't know how much work it had taken for Erik to prepare his home for her, and he hoped she never would find out. He had insisted that she take Gustave out for lunch, and had taken her bags upstairs where he spent the next three quarters of an hour frantically cleaning and making everything perfect for his angel. He was now thoroughly exhausted yet found, as usual, he couldn't sleep. Nor did he want to while Christine and Gustave were still awake.

It was now close to two o'clock in the afternoon, and Gustave was once again at the piano while Christine was singing the aria she would perform the next evening. However, they all felt déjà vu as the a chime alerted them that someone was visiting. Confused, Erik had told them to stay put as he went to see who was there.

Christine and Gustave remained, puzzled, as to whom could possibly be visiting. Christine wasn't aware Erik had any friends and thought his employees would know him well enough not to pay personal house calls.

The sound of a woman's voice coming up the stairs immediately made Christine jealous, to her surprise, but Erik's annoyed tone in the way he responded reassured her. She could not yet understand what they were saying, but the voice sounded only too farmiliar…

"_Christine!_" Meg dropped the basket she was holding, its contents spilling upon the floor. Christine didn't tear her eyes away from her old friend's bewildered ones, though, she could only stare.

"Meg, child, what are you… _No!_" Madame Giry came up behind Meg, and soon they formed a triangle of three gaping women. Gustave sat there confused, and Erik could only lean back against the wall and chuckle silently to himself.

"Christine… is it really you?" Meg slowly approached her friend, and reached out a hand to touch her forearm. They quickly embraced one another and soon after that they were shedding tears of joy.

"Christine – I can't believe – I mean I _heard_ but I never thought – Oh my gosh I can't believe it's you!"

"Meg, oh my goodness! Look at you – you look sublime! What are you doing here? Oh, never mind – I'm so happy to see you again after all this time!"

**A/N: In re-reading Christine's line, that rhymes a lot. Haha sorry I didn't realize that - again, they're not singing!**

After a good five minutes, they let out a laugh and wiped their tears away. Madame Giry, for the sake of politeness, approached and embraced the vibrant young lady, complimented her on how well she looked, modestly accepted those that were returned, and inquired about the young boy sitting at the piano with a _very_ confused look on his face.

"Madame Giry, Meg, this is my son, Gustave," Gustave shyly waved hello. "Gustave, his is my old friend Meg, and her mother, Madame Giry,"

"Christine, I beg my pardon, but why are you here?" Christine didn't know if Madame Giry was referencing to Coney Island, or Erik's home, so she decided to answer both.

"I was invited to sing here, and, quite frankly, Raoul kicked me out of the hotel room so now I'm staying here. As of two hours ago, actually." Changing the subject which had grown considerably awkward, Christine addressed her old friend. "Meg, I'm so happy to see you again! How have you been – what are you doing?" The two young women sat themselves by each other and discussed the past lonely decade, while Erik and Madame Giry looked on thoughtfully. Gustave turned around and began quietly practicing the piano part that he already knew by heart.

"Erik…" Erik was staring dreamily at Christine who was now eagerly conversing with Meg. "Erik!"

"Hmm… what?" He finally turned, facing Madame Giry as she scolded him in a hushed tone.

"Erik, what on _earth_ is she doing here? You said you'd forgotten! Moved on! Meg and I come to pay a little visit and find you have a new star, and you've virtually adopted her _son_ it seems!" If only Madame Giry knew how true her words were.

"Giry, her husband had thrown her out. Could I honestly just stand there and let her be?"

"No, Erik! You should never have invited her in the first place! She was supposed to sing for Hammerstein, but no – you had to sweep her away! What are you going to do when she leaves, Erik? What then?"

That hit a nerve. The thought had been nagging in the back of his mind, but he had simply told it to shut up and let him enjoy the time he had with her; exactly what he had been telling himself not to do merely a few days ago. The thought of her leaving him again made him feel as if he were being drowned once more, and he desperately needed air. Toxic or not, he needed it.

"As soon as Mama and I came to America, with…_ him_, we started to raise money for him to purchase his side show." Meg kept out the details of how _exactly_ she had helped him raise money, and continued with the story of how she was now the _Ooh La La Girl_ and a big hit at Coney Island.

Christine, to say the least, was surprised. Her dear, sweet, little Meg was now doing very improper dancing. She remembered when her dream had to become a star ballerina. That was hardly what she was now.

"So, Christine, why are you here? You said to sing, but I thought you were being employed by Hammerstein… that's what all the papers said, anyway,"

Christine sighed, composing her thoughts in her head. "I was, at first, but…" she glanced over her shoulder at Erik and Madame Giry who were now having a heated conversation. They took care to keep their voices low, so she could not understand what they were saying. She caught Gustave's eye and smiled, and he returned the gesture before turning is back to her and continuing to play. "He offered me – _us –_ twice the money for one performance. I couldn't turn it down, Meg, you've heard the gossip. Raoul and I are in debt so deep we can't get out!" Christine was on the verge of tears, now, and Meg put a comforting arm on her friend's shoulder.

"There, there, it's alright Christine. Everything will be alright…" She hoped her words conveyed more certainty than she was feeling.

Gustave watched, as the two conversations continued. He could hear fragments of both, and they both confused him greatly. He continued to play the piano, however, for a few minutes until Madame Giry and Meg took their leave, and he was once again left alone with his mother and Mister Y.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you to my anom reviewer – you made me smile like an idiot for a good five minutes. And I'm glad to hear none of you think Gustave is behaving rudely. He just seemed so sweet in the show, and I think I'm making him more bold than he seemed. I don't know. Please keep giving me ideas! I'll start writing the next chapter now, as I have been writing non-stop for the last 12 hours practically lol… Wow I really need a life. Oh well. Please review! (Oh, and I brought back the Giry's at WeLoveWeLive's request… Thank you for the idea – it's making it get dramatic!) **


	13. Worried

**A/N: If I had any reviews in the last minute I published chapter 12, I'd thank you, but as it is, I doubt anyone can read that fast. *sigh* Oh well, on to chapter 13! And by now it is 8:05am… I'm insane aren't I? Actually you know what? Don't answer that. **

**Disclaimer: I may own the Asian noodles I'm eating, but I don't own LND. :(**

* * *

><p>It was getting close to ten in the evening, but Christine couldn't sleep. She hadn't gotten much rest the previous night, and had awoken unusually early, but still she found she could not close her eyes for more than a few seconds.<p>

She had expected Raoul to contact her… _somehow_. Check if she were alright. Ask where she was staying, but the last she had heard of him was the swift "Thank you," before he had departed the café. Although she had no reason to be, she was now genuinely worried.

Sitting up in her bed, she noticed Gustave was sound asleep on the floor. She could hear soft music coming from the living room, pausing every few moments, and she assumed Erik was composing. If she hadn't been so worried, the melody would have sent her into a pleasant slumber, but she found she could not bear to wait a moment longer.

Standing, Christine then tip-toed out into the living room barefoot, where Erik was indeed sitting at his piano and scribbling on a piece of paper after playing a few notes. She stood a few feet behind him and simply watched for a few minutes, as the genius performed his art.

Knowing that he probably had eyes in the back of his head, she wasn't startled when he spoke.

"Are you alright, Christine? Do you require something to help you sleep?" He turned on the bench so he was facing her.

"No, no I'm alright, thank you." Christine bit her lip. "I was just watching you play, is all."

"Was I keeping you up? I'll go downstairs if you –"

"Oh, no that isn't necessary, Erik. I enjoy hearing you play." She smiled genuinely at this, for it was true. Sighing and hanging her head, she decided to give in. "I'm worried, Erik,"

"Whatever for, my dear?" she looked at him and he understood. "Ah, that husband of yours,"

Christine sensed how hard it was for him to say this. The words themselves seemed to be acid burning his tongue off.

"Erik, I must confess I was relieved to spend a few days away from him," at this he noticeably perked up. "But I thought he would at least be in contact with me, just making sure he knew where I was, and if I was alright. I'm just worried…"

Silence, for a few moments.

"Would you like me to help you look for him?" Erik had no idea why he was doing this. If Raoul saw him then his cover would be blown; he would either be personally murdered by Vicomte, or shipped back to Paris in a cage. Neither sounded very appealing.

Christine's eyes widened. "But you can't! If he sees you-"

"Relax, Christine, I have a cloak and a hat. If – _when_ we run into him I shall simply remain in a shadow while you discuss…arrangements. I promise you I can very well look after myself."

Christine nodded. "Very well, but we should leave a note for Gustave in case he wakes. He never sleeps very long," They shared a silent moment of understanding before Christine scribbled out a note and left it on the table:

_Gustave – Mister Y and I have gone out to talk to someone. Do not be alarmed, you can play the piano should you awaken. We will not be long._

_-Christine_

Christine decided it was wise not to inform him she was talking to Raoul. Gustave would wish to talk about it, and the whole thing just seemed awkward and unnecessary. However she didn't want Gustave fearing she was meeting up with some stranger, but if Raoul was drunk that could very well be the case.

Erik emerged out of thin air, as he does, fully adorned in a low black fedora and his long coat that reached the floor. Christine took her red cloak and pulled it around herself, not bothering to properly dress. Her hair bounced around her shoulders as they silently exited the building and wandered through Phantasma.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I was going to keep writing, but that seemed like a good place to stop. Next chapter I will start now… let the search begin! Dun dun duun…**


	14. The Search

**A/N: Again, I published chapter 13 as of 23 seconds ago, and still no reviews. What is wrong with you people! Lol. Anyway, hope you enjoy this. Getting onto 8:30am… and again, please give me ideas. I don't care how insane they are, I'll use 'em! It may seem like my brain is as endless as everyone's love for Erik *sigh* but believe it or not, I'm just coming up with this stuff two seconds before I type it. I really have no clue what to do, and when I get stuck I sit here and wait for a review. Holy crap why do all my author notes keep rhyming? This is getting weird so I'm gonna shut up now.**

**Disclaimer: Do you know what Vegemite is? Here's a hint: I'm eating it on toast. Do I own **_**Love Never Dies**_**? Here's another hint: Read the last 13 disclaimers**

* * *

><p>Christine and Erik scurried about Phantasma, which was now closing; the final crowds dripping out through the gates. The street lamps came on, guiding their path as the made their way to the hotel.<p>

As they entered, Christine raced ahead up the stairs, and came to a halt when she noticed Raoul's room's door was open. Gently pushing it inwards and cringing at the creak, Christine and Erik cautiously walked in.

"Hello?" Christine called. "Raoul? Are you here?" They hastily searched every room, finding no sign of the Vicomte. Really worried now, Christine locked the door with the key she still had before running of to the hotel bar.

She ran up the bartender, ignoring the strange stares she got from the other drinkers.

"Excuse me, sir, but have you seen my husband? His name is Raoul…" she gave a quick description of him before sighing in relief when the bartender nodded the affirmative.

"Yeah, he's been here alright. Sat here drinking me dry for a good half of the day." Christine grew alarmed at this piece of news. "Owes me money, too!" After assuring the bartender he would be repaid and thanking him for his help, Christine left the place with Erik at her side.

"Erik, I'm really worried now. He's probably really drunk, oh, God, where could he be?" Christine was frantic now, and it sickened Erik to see how much she cared about the Vicomte. Nevertheless, he would do anything for her even if it meant helping her find the bastard she married.

They began a strategic search of Coney Island, and as a clock hidden by buildings and trees chimed twice, and only twice, Christine was about to give up hope.

"Oh, Erik, maybe we should just go back. Gustave might be worried and –" Erik suddenly put a hand on her mouth and then dragged her into a shadow. For there, in front of them, was none other than a very drunk Raoul de Changy, taking swigs from a bottle, arms wrapped around the neck of two whores.

By now, Erik had dropped his hand from Christine's mouth, apparently too soon because as she watched him kiss the woman hanging of his right arm, she gasped, squeaked, and sobbed all in one sound.

Raoul stopped, as did the two women with him, and looked around in the darkness. "Who-?" But as fate would have it, the street lamp they were hiding beside flickered on at that very moment, catching the exact angle of Erik's hat so that his masked face was in full view of the trio before him.

Without looking back, Christine grasped Erik's sleeve and ran.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Whoo! I think I'm running out of juice. I need coffee soon… lots… and lots… and lots… of coffee… I think I'll just hang out here until I get a review. Someone tell me what to do! God it's rhyming again! What the hell? I'm not planning this, I swear I'm not. Oh, and 50 Erik-Points to whoever knows what Vegemite is :) Please review! I love you! Ok I need to stop talking before I start speaking in poetry.**


	15. Realizations

**A/N: Ok after about 13 hours of nonstop writing and 23 with no sleep, I have no idea what to do. Please give me ideas, if you have any! So I'll just do whatever I do when I can't think of anything E/C: Write with Raoul. Oh joy. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own LND. If I did, Raoul would be dead. 'Nuff said. **

**IT'S. RHYMING. AGAIN!**

* * *

><p>Raoul lay on his back, staring out the window, not seeing anything. If he had wanted to take in the beautiful view, he would be seeing the sun rise. He would have seen the black sky turn pale at the corners, before turning white as oranges and pinks gathered at the end of the ocean. He probably would have found it beautiful, but he just laid there and stared.<p>

Raoul had gotten home… somehow… and then he had… taken a bath? Yes, he had taken a bath… with his clothes on. Then he had stumbled back to bed and dozed in and out of consciousness before staring out the window as the daylight began to show itself.

The mattress beneath him was damp, as were some parts of his clothing. Raoul groaned, and the sound hurt his ears. Frustrated, he took a pillow and thrust it over his head before trying to sleep.

Even if he hadn't been totally and absolutely drunk, while still suffering from the hangover he had received the previous morning, and had stayed up for twenty-four hours straight, Raoul knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. No, something was pushing at his already hurting mind. It felt like his mother had crawled inside his head while banging his brain with a branch, reminding him something important which he could not place.

Something about that woman he had glimpsed last night. Not either of the two hanging of his arm, no, the one who was with her husband. Well, they were standing particularly close, and even in his drunken state he had noticed a sparkling ring on her hand. What else could he be?

She, and her husband, seemed familiar somehow. Like from a very foggy dream.

Wanting nothing more than to forget how to think and just sleep for a few weeks, Raoul pressed the pillow closer over his eyes and ears as the sun got brighter and the seagulls louder. Is attempts were in vain, however, and at last he decided if he were to remain awake, he may as well do it in comfort.

"Bloody birds," he muttered has he lifted his aching body from the bed and wandered to the kitchen for some medicine that would be the equivalent of dropping ten bricks on his head. Raoul pulled out a random container before sliding four pills into his palm, and tossing them into his mouth, downing them with a sip of water. Four pills no doubt exceeded the recommended value, but he didn't care at the moment.

Falling back into the bed, Raoul ignored the mattress's shriek of protest and lazily put the pillow around his face so that it blocked all possible light. He let out a contented sigh as the fog began to clear from his head.

Half a second later, Raoul bolted upright as his functioning mind was now able to place a name to the face. And the other _half_ of a face…

He let out a gasp and a "Christi-" before falling backwards, unconciouss.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And that's about the end of Mr. Nice Fop from here on out. Not that Raoul was ever particularly nice, but just FYI he's now crossed into the EVIL territory. Muahahaha! And since LNDcrazygirl requested (well you kinda did) I added in what I saw thismornign when I saw the sun rise. I was runnign around barefoot... lol... yep. One of the few good things of staying up all night. Okay. I haven't really eaten since I've slept so I'm gonna go make food and come up with some incredibly lame, fluffy E/C chapter that will hopefully be up in around… say… *thinks* lets see… cooking + thinking + eating + typing = 1 hour 45 minutes, maximum. Stay tuned! :) love you all and thank you for the reviews, my reviewers… you know who you are… **

**Ideas**

**And**

**Reviews**

**That's all I ask of you… I'm beginning to wonder why I don't just finish this story in poetry. **


	16. Reaction

**A/N: Okay, I have no clue how I'm supposed to do this chapter. Christine's going to be upset yes, but I don't know if I should put that into anger or tears. Christine doesn't seem the destructive type (that's Erik's job!) but screaming her eyes dry doesn't seem quite like her either. I think I'll do a little of both… Okay please review now more than ever because I have no idea how to do this and I would love to know if you think this sounds like Christine or if I totally screwed her up.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own LND. Aha I've escaped the rhyming… lucky me :P**

* * *

><p>They didn't stop running until they found themselves leaning against the wall and each other - panting and desperately trying to catch their breath - in Erik's living room. Gustave was seated at the piano, and had just been quietly venting his emotions into his music when suddenly they had burst in; he was surprised, to say the least.<p>

"Mother? Erik?" Both of them jumped at hearing his voice, and Gustave giggled inside at making the two adults in his life that he always thought where invincible, shocked. This thought caused Gustave to become confused, however. Was Mister Y… Erik… Whoever he was… As big a part of his life as his own father should be? What surprised Gustave even more was the fact that he didn't feel guilty. Gustave quickly brushed away these thoughts as swiftly as they entered his mind.

"Gustave," Christine breathed. "What… are… you… doing awake?" she had a hand on Erik's shoulder and was leaning forward, palm to her chest.

"I had a nightmare. I've been up for an hour and a half,"

"Oh," There was an awkward silence.

"Did you find who you needed to talk to?" Gustave inquired. He couldn't imagine who Mister Y and his mother could possibly need to associate with in the middle of the night so was, needless to say, curious.

Gustave's words brought the face she had been trying to ignore back to her thoughts. Chrisine suddenly choked back a sob. "That… that… that_ bastard!_"

Christine had never been one to swear before, and Erik found he was shocked, yet pleasantly surprised. Gustave sat at the piano, speechless.

Sobbing, screaming, and yelling all at once, Christine sent a kick to the wall she was standing next to, and Erik was certain she had either damaged it, or her toe.

Gustave had never seen this side of his mother before, and couldn't imagine who could be able to make her so upset. As he watched Mister Y who also seemed angry, yet slightly relieved, he saw the look of pride and… admiration? He gave Christine. All that Gustave knew told him that a man should hardly admire or be proud of a woman who was screaming and destroying his house – Christine was now clawing at the carpet, sobbing – yet Erik was nonetheless.

As Christine slowly ran out of energy, and sat against the wall a minute later, she sobbed uncontrollably into her hands. Feeling like her hands held more tears than she had shed, she paused to glimpse at her palms, only to find that her cuts had reopened and were now bleeding slightly. Frustrated, she threw her head back against the wall and let the tears silently cascade down her cheeks, palms bleeding face down in her lap and staining her nightdress.

Nobody moved.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: God I hate this chapter. Please tell me what you think and if you want me to make it longer or not. I'm not really in the right state of mind to write this. Maybe I'll fix it later. I have an idea for another story (another 3 actually) and I think I'll start that because it keeps bugging my brain. Please review (that's all I ask of you! – bloody rhyming…) and thank you again to WeLoveWeLive for giving me an idea. I'll definitely use it once I come up with something creative. Should make an interesting climax. :) Again, please review, and I'll update sooner! **

**I swear, the all I ask of you bit was intentional, but that rhyme wasn't… what the hell is wrong with me!**


	17. Reaction Part II

**A/N: Wow! Thank you guys I really got kinda confused and lost after the last 2-ish chapters, so thank you for liking it! (Or at least saying you liked it – either works) And thanks to Eriksangelofmusic4ever and Hades250 for 1. Reading, 2. Liking it, and 3. Giving me some great ideas! I'll definitely fit both of them together. Also, to those of you who seemed worried I'm about to drop dead, I did just sleep the entire day and I'm now eating an omelet and preparing to write all night. Maybe in a few days I'll manage to get back to the right time zone. I hope to give you about 6 chapters tonight, and I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow afternoon so I should sleep beforehand. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: I own this story. But not LND. Oh. My. God. It rhymed again. Eh I give up.**

* * *

><p>Christine was sitting at the dining room table with a handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes and sniffling. Erik placed a cup of tea in front of her, then took a seat opposite hers as she composed herself.<p>

"Thank you," Erik nodded.

Minutes later, Christine felt well enough to speak again. "I'm sorry, Erik, I really am." What she was apologizing for, Christine had no idea, yet felt it was necessary nonetheless.

"It's perfectly fine, Christine. Pray, continue."

Nodding and taking a sip of tea, Christine began her story. "As you know, we were married about six months after… well, after. Raoul had been very protective of me." Erik vaguely wondered how she had managed to come to him unnoticed that night, but remained silent. "He had also grown… sad. He didn't seem as cheerful as usual, even on our wedding day. If anything, Raoul was relieved. Even on our wedding night, he didn't seem happy." Erik tried not to break the table in anger. If only he hadn't left that morning… "When I told him I was pregnant, all he said was, 'That's nice, Christine,' and turned back to the book he was reading. I don't know if he even heard me. I saw less and less of him as the months progressed.

"The night Gustave was born, Raoul wasn't present. I never really found out where he was, but I suspected that was the first night he spent at the bar; for when he came home he went straight to bed and woke up with a terrible headache. I didn't dare leave Gustave in his care the first days after his birth." Erik was visibly relieved that his son had not been left in the care of that fop when he was clearly unfit to handle a child. "As Gustave grew up, he would always ask Raoul to play with him; he still does. But in the three years after Gustave was born, Raoul began to go drinking more. He was – and is – constantly angry and easily agitated. He started agreeing to ridiculous bets. Small at first, not losing too much money. But then they got bigger and bigger until he lost our entire fortune." Tears began to trickle down Christine's cheeks once more. "At first when he started drinking, I tried to stop him. He would ignore me, saying he was a man and could do as he pleased. I didn't argue. One night, he hit me. He hit my cheek and then left. He never apologized, and I stopped waiting for him every night. I would take Gustave out as much as possible, keeping him away from Raoul. He usually just goes to his music, though. Even when Raoul tells him to stop, he'll still find some way to play."

Erik would smile, but all his angel had been through made him want to rip the Vicomte into pieces so small he could never hope to be put back together again. However, he resisted and instead placed hi hand over Christine's as she again dabbed at her eyes. In the past two days it seemed he had experienced all the emotions once could possibly endure, and cried more tears than her body could possibly hold.

As Erik stood and moved to Christine to do something to comfort her, she threw herself into his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck; sobbing uncontrollably into his shirt.

A stunned Erik gently wrapped his hands around her torso after a moment, then gently relaxed as she continued to mumble incoherent words. "Oh… Erik… I can't believe… Raoul… He wouldn't… He couldn't… He did… I loved him! I hate him! No… No, no, no… Raoul would never turn to a prostitute…"

Erik soothed her by rubbing her back and gently whispering words of reassurance in her ear. He then gently directed her back to the bedroom, where he sat on the edge of the bed with her in his arms. Again patting her back he tried to lay her on the mattress, but she protested.

"No, Erik, please. Just hold me, just for a little while," Blushing, he hid her head in his shoulder as he began rubbing her back again. Christine whimpered as her sobs ceased. "Sing for me?"

Slightly taken aback, Erik consented and began to sing. **(A/N: **_**Music of the Night**_**)** Her eyes fluttered shut and he gently placed her under the cover as he continued singing. When he finished, convinced she was asleep, Erik pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead and smiled.

Christine smiled too, and whispered a "Thank you," before rolling over and falling asleep. Erik didn't know whether it was for the song or the kiss, but blushed slightly under his mask and made sure his angel was tucked in before closing the door and leaving the bedroom.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ok, LNDcrazygirl, that was some very very, very mild fluff but thanks for your tips. Please review, and just to let you know, the rhymes throughout this chapter are making me wonder if I've totally lost my mind yet. I have no idea where they're coming from. Ah I just revised it but it randomly closed. Oh well. My S key has somtehign stuck under it which is why some of the "she"'s are now "he"'s. Sorry if it doesn't make sense. I fixed it but it closed and I don't feel like doing it again. I'll fi it later though, I promise. Please review once more!**


	18. Scampering

**A/N: Ok, as I told LNDcrazygirl, we're going to see some super-hero Gustave-ness. I have yummy toast with melted butter, so let the story continue!**

**Disclaimer: Toast is good. Diclaimers are not. If I owned LND, then Raoul would get shot.**

* * *

><p>Gustave scampered out of the way as Erik left the bedroom. He sighed contentedly, a smile disappearing into the mask, before walking away.<p>

Gustave pondered over what he had heard. He now knew that the two adults had ventured out to meet Raoul, and they had discovered him with prostitutes. Gustave had heard the term, but didn't fully understand what it meant. He did know that it was bad, and not very nice. And it had clearly upset his mother, which was more than enough reason to do… something.

As he saw Erik sit over at the piano and begin to softly play a sweet little melody that Gustave recognized was the same his mother often sang to him, **(A/N: some cool something for whoever can guess the song!)** Gustave approached the door and gently made his way down the stairs, before silently slipping out into the darkened street. He took two steps towards the theatre, when the clock rang out three chimes. Three in the morning. Memories of what had happened to his mother in broad daylight and the things far worse that could be lurking nearby in the middle of the night, Gustave decided that now was not the best of times to be wandering around Phantasma, at least not without Mister Y by his side.

Sighing and defeated, Gustave made his way back to his bedroom silently, for he possessed his father's uncanny ability to scamper about the darkness, and slipped into his makeshift bed. As he listened to Erik play, Gustave fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm ending it there because in half an hour I'll publish the next chappy. This S key is still bugging me, and right now **_**The Phantom of the Opera**_** is playing on my speakers. I found the cd. :) Please review **_**if you still love me…**_


	19. The Truth Is Out

**A/N: Ok, hope this gets exciting! I might stretch it out a little bit, but… Idk. We'll see. And please review! Reviews replace my sleep. I can live off them. :) **

**Disclaimer: I have more toast. Don't like this disclaimer. If I owned LND, it would be lamer. Just like this disclaimer poem. Ok that was terrible. You know what? Just read the story.**

* * *

><p>Early morning, at around eight o'clock, Christine awoke. Sitting up and stretching, wiping her eyes that were groggy with sleep and tears, she sat up and noticed Gustave was absent. Hearing two distinct yet similar voices and music flowing from the main room, Christine smiled and silently made her way to the bathroom, where for the next forty-five minutes, she relaxed in a warm bath.<p>

**(A/N: Again, switching POV's. Now to Erik and Gustave… Here's some father/son fluff that was again requested. :) )**

"No, Gustave… try it like _this,_" Erik played a few bars, and Gustave did his best to imitate it. "Very good, now go on," Gustave played another half page before Erik once again stopped him. "Gustave, you need to pay attention to the dynamics. That's a crescendo, not a diminuendo! Try again," sighing, Gustave replayed the noted, this time ending it so loud that Erik once again stopped him. "Gustave, it ends on mezzo-forte, not – "

"Ugh, Mister Y – Erik – can we stop now? We've been playing for _hours_."

Nodding, Erik took his point and sighed. "Very well, Gustave, you are correct. I apologize for pushing you. You really are an exceptionally talented young musician, however. I have no doubt you will go far…" Erik caught himself staring at the boy with a strange expression, and immediately cleared his throat and turned back to the piano, rearranging the sheet music. "Anyway, are you hungry? When your mother awakes we may go out for breakfast,"

At that moment, Christine emerged, dressed in nothing but a silk robe that had wet patches from her wet curls which were hanging over her shoulders and down her back. Erik's mouth was hanging slightly open, but when Christine blushed and crossed her arms over her chest modestly, he swallowed and assumed his gentlemanly manner.

"Christine, good morning, did you sleep well?"

Nodding and approaching them, she said, "Yes, very nice, Erik, thank you." Noticing he was dressed in the same attire as the previous night, she became alarmed. "Erik, did you get any sleep at all last night?"

Shrugging nonchalantly, Erik replied, "I do not require much rest, my dear." Glancing at Gustave and noticing how alarmed he looked at Erik's nickname for his mother, he quickly changed the subject. "Gustave and I were discussing breakfast. When you are ready, would you like to go out somewhere?"

"Oh, yes, I'll need my energy for the big night, tonight."

"No, Christine, you will not, as I have rescheduled your performance."

Christine and Gustave were surprised, the former more so. "But, Erik – but _why_?"

"Because, my d- Christine, you have only been here two days, and because of all you've been through, I decided you should have the time to rest." Indeed, he mainly did this so he could spend more time with her, but offered another excuse. "You needn't feel so much stress. I have rescheduled your debut in ten days' time."

Slightly shocked, but also grateful, Christine replied. "Thank you, Erik, that's very kind and considerate of you. Shall we go to breakfast now?" Christine left to ready herself, leaving Gustave and his father alone.

"Erik?"

"Yes, Gustave?"

"Why do you care about my mother so much?" Gustave was looking into the masked face, while Erik was still staring at the spot Christine had last stood.

"Because, Gustave, your mother was the only person in the world who ever showed me any kindness or compassion; and I will be forever grateful."

Deciding that was enough, Gustave began to play the piano again, despite his previous wishes to stop as Erik sat beside him and enjoyed the music.

Many minutes later, Christine emerged in the same white dress, red cloak and hat she had worn the day they first arrived in Coney Island. **(A/N: I'm using the same outfits they wore in the Australian version – I'll see if I can find links to post on my profile.)** Her hair was still in its usual updo, even though it was dripping down onto her shoulders, dampening the material.

"Well then, are we ready?"

As they wandered around Phantasma, waiting for Gustave to find a suitable café, Christine couldn't help but notice all the stares Erik received, even though they were at a place that was nicknamed "the monsters' ball." She could also notice his obvious discomfort at being out in public, so she interlaced her hand in his elbow to make him more comfortable.

He looked at where there coats connected, and gave her a smile which she returned, before following Gustave into the same restaurant Christine had ate with Raoul the previous day. They were sat at a different table on the patio, and asked their drink order. As soon as they were left alone, Gustave told them what he wanted and said he was going to look around.

"Careful, Gustave, you could get lost." Christine warned.

"Indeed, Gustave, please be careful. Stay where we can see you."

"Alright, Erik, Mother." And with that Gustave was off.

Erik stared after his son for a few moments as he walk down the sidewalk, staring in wonder at everything he passed. A freak on stilts patted his head, and Gustave giggled. Christine watched as Erik smiled.

"Something funny, Monsieur?" she asked playfully.

Erik smiled and shook his head. "Not at all, Madame Vicomtess, de Changy."

Christine's face fell. "Please don't' call me that, Erik. It makes me feel so old."

"Ah, but perhaps I like teasing you, my dear. What shall I call you instead, hmm? Madamoiselle Daae? Madame?"

"Oh, yes, but I have a larger list of names at my disposal, don't I, Phantom of the Opera? Angel of Music? Opera Ghost? _Mister Y_?" she raised an eyebrow. "Why do you have that name, anyway,"

Erik sighed. "Christine, in case you have failed to notice, I am still a wanted man in Paris. I could hardly come here flaunting my birth name, considering that would get me shipped straight back to France for an execution."

The thought of Erik being dead, as she had believed for so long, made Christine grow pale. Erik noticed and put a hand on hers.

"Relax, my dear, I promise you: I am not going anywhere soon. At least, not of my own will." He was going to say more, but their waiter returned for their orders.

**A/N: Switching POV's…again… shame on me, I know.**

Gustave wandered about the streets. He honestly didn't know what he was doing. Glancing back at Christine and Erik, he noticed that there backs were to him and they seemed to be engaged in conversation. Deciding it was now or never, Gustave speed-walked in the direction of the hotel.

It didn't take him very long, or anytime at all actually, for him to find his target, for there walking up the street, was Raoul. He seemed angry. Far angrier than Gustave had ever seen him. Quickly darting behind a sign propped on the street, Gustave hid as his father approached.

However, Raoul had seen the sudden movement and was instantly suspicious. Pausing, Raoul looked directly at the sign, trying to burn a hole through it with his gaze, before knocking it over and exposing a kneeling Gustave.

"Gustave!" Raoul seemed furious. Grabbing the boys' shirt collar, he pulled him to his feet. "What the hell are you doing?"

Knowing that lying would probably earn him a slap in the face, Gustave said the truth. "H-hiding,"

"And why is that?" Raoul growled.

Sucking in all the air his little lungs could hold, Gustave let out a piercing scream. "Mother! Erik!" before punching Raoul in the stomach and running.

However, Gustave tripped after two steps and when he rolled over, Raoul was looming over him.

**A/N: Three times in one chapter? I know. I deserve to be punjabbed. Christine and Erik…**

They had been in the midst of a random conversation, when they heard Gustave's shriek for help. In an instant, Erik leapt over the railing of the patio and ran to his son's aid. Still in shock, Christine raced through the restaurant – knocking over a waiter ("Sorry, so sorry, excuse me, excuse me!") – and emerging onto the street. She ran across the road, fully ignoring the carriage that almost hit her.

"Gustave!" Erik knelt down before his son, who was sitting on the ground crying from a bloody nose that was also most likely broken. Tearing away a piece of fabric from his coat, Erik began to gently bandage the wound. Therefore, he was not prepared for the kick that was swiftly delivered to his head. It knocked his mask to the floor, and as a reflex Erik's right hand quickly flew to his face, as he pushed Gustave out of the way, sending him falling backwards.

Christine let out a cry of horror as Erik and Gustave's heads both met the stone with a resounding "crack." She stormed over to Raoul and her hand quickly came in contact with his face in a very violent slap.

"How _dare_ you!" she slapped his other side. "How _dare_ you abuse Erik's son!" Her hand froze as it prepared to send another slap, realizing what had just left her lips.

Gustave stopped crying a he cradled his nose. "What?" he whimpered.

If possible, Raoul became even angrier. "What, indeed, Christine." He said with an eerie calm. He stepped to the side and then approached Erik who was reaching for his mask. Raoul kicked it out of the way. "_You!_ You… You… You… You _monster! You deformed bastard!_ How _dare_ you rape my wife!" As he said this Raoul was aiming kicks at any part of Erik's body, but mostly missed. He did, however, get a good one to his chest and Erik flew backwards again, hand still glued to his exposed face, as the other one rubbed what was no doubt a now broken rib.

Gustave screamed and retreated, frightened, as Christine approached her husband. "_Raoul!_ Raoul, stop!" Raoul spun around and faced her.

"No, Christine, you stop right now and explain! When did that son of a bitch rape you?" He was fuming.

"Raoul, Raoul, he didn't rape me. I went willingly. Now please, Raoul, leave. Leave right now." She was desperately trying to step around him and get to Erik who was lying on his back on the sidewalk, as a crowd now formed around the four of them.

"Fine. I'll leave you to your monster." With that he kicked Erik's foot, glared at Gustave, and scratched Christine's hand.

As soon as he was out of the way, Christine rushed over to Erik and knelt beside him. "Erik, Erik talk to me. What's wrong? Tell me where it hurts…" she moved his hand away from his chest and began to gently feel it, trying to detect anything strange.

"Mask…" he rasped. Just then, Gustave crawled over, hand still protecting his swollen nose, and offered Erik's mask to him.

"Gustave, look away," Gustave did as his mother said while Erik replaced his mask. A few moments later when he turned around, a man approached them.

"Madame? I'm a doctor, I believe I can help your husband…" Christine nodded despite his false assumption, as a stretcher was brought and Erik was carried to the hospital. Christine and Gustave followed, neither of them speaking what needed to be said.

When they arrived, Gustave was taken away to have his nose looked at, and Christine was advised to wait. And so she did.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ok, I have no idea what a hospital would be like in 1907, so I'm getting them outa there in the next chapter. So, do you like, do you hate? Let me know! I have a good idea what to do now, so… Yeps! Please review! And wow that's the most swearing I've ever written. Bad Raoul!**


	20. Exposed

**A/N: Phew! Ok writing the last chapter was very draining. Nevertheless, I am awake as usual and here you go, my dears, chapter 20! And let's see who can guess the song Erik was playing in chapter 18…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own LND. I do, however, own this Snuggie. (God did that seriously rhyme again? I swear this isn't intentional…) **

**I'm listening to my POTO cd and currently Carlotta is screeching – er – **_**singing Think of Me…**_** *shudder***

* * *

><p>A few hours later, Christine was at home, dealing with two broken boys who were trying to talk to her about the same thing, however she was very conveniently 'busy' with something whenever either one of them brought up the subject.<p>

"There, Erik – is that better?" Christine arranged a pillow by Erik's chest to cushion the broken rib.

"Yes, Christine, that's lovely, but –"

"Would you like me to get you some water? I could sing if that would help you sleep,"

"No, Christine, I do not wish for water, I wish to speak to you about –"

"Oh, hang on, I think I left something out –"

"_Christine!_" Erik took her hand as she tried to stand.

"Yes?" she asked nervously.

"We need to talk,"

"Sorry, Erik, maybe later? I need to go see Gustave –"

"Mother?" Gustave was standing in the doorway, cold rag on his swollen nose.

"Gustave! What are you doing! You need to get back to bed…" Christine stood and tried to quite literally push her son out the door.

"Mother, I have a broken nose. That doesn't mean I'm bedridden!" Christine sighed and nodded.

"Very well, Gustave, but Erik needs his rest, why don't you go play –"

"On the contrary, I would rather enjoy some company." Erik's voice came from the bed.

Giving up, Christine let her hand drop from Gustave's shoulder and stood there awkwardly as her son ran up to the bed, plopping down next to Erik.

He winced as Gustave's weight affected his rib, yet reassured his son that he was fine after Gustave apologized.

The three remained in uncomfortable silence for a few moments.

Desperate for any conversation, and out of simple curiousity, Erik spoke. "Gustave, why were you talking to Raoul?"

Defeated, Gustave confessed. "I was trying to find him because I was angry." He hung his head.

"Gustave – why? Why were you angry? You could have told one of us and we would have –"

"I heard you and mother talking last night." Both Christine and Erik blushed at what else Gustave could have heard – or seen – yet stayed silent to allow him to explain. "I heard that fa – that _Raoul_, had made Mother upset. I wanted to talk to him. I was going to go to the hotel but he was walking down the street instead." After a moment's pause, he blurted out what was on his mind. "Are you really my father?"

Slightly taken aback, Erik gave the only answer he could. "Yes," More silence. "Yes, Gustave. Yes, I am your father." Saying the words out loud allowed the three in the room to believe them easier, as the thought had retreated to the back of their minds.

Gustave reluctantly reached out a hand and placed it on his father's heart. Then up to his face, on his exposed cheek. Then over to the mask…

Erik's hand immediately snatched his son's. "No, Gustave. Not now."

Slightly disheartened, Gustave protested. "I saw it today, though. Please, it's not that bad. I want to see! Please… _Father_."

After a moment, he found he could deny his child nothing when addressed as such, and let his hand flop back to the mattress. "Very well," he took a gulp as Gustave began to pry away his most precious barrier.

Gustave worked slowly, knowing that Erik was not used to this. Starting at the bottom, Gustave gently lifted the mask away from his father's face, until it fell onto the pillow.

Erik looked down, preparing for the certain rejection and screams that were to follow his unmasking. However, the only sound was a quick intake of breath from Gustave. Erik looked up, into his son's eyes, only to see surprise, and – to his immediate sadness – fear. However the latter of the two faded quickly, but Erik did not see as he again reached for his mask.

"No, please," Gustave held Erik's wrist to stop him. Examining every crevice of distorted flesh, Gustave began to realize it really wasn't too bad. True, at first glance one would want to immediately turn away, but knowing the heart of the man before him, Gustave was not frightened.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ok that's a terrible place to stop, I know, but I can't think of anything else. Please review! I hate awkward chapters and that was weird to write. I didn't go into detail about the deformity, because I'll let you imagine what you like. I'm really not going to elaborate more on this scene because I don't really know what else to do with it. And because Erik is magical, his broken rib is going to heal at an inhuman pace simply because the story would get boring if Erik just sat in bed all day. Please review! And see if you can figure out what he plays in Chapter 18… and yay 20 chapter! Whoo-hoo!**


	21. Bleeding and Scheming

**A/N: Oh. My. God. I love you guys and thank you so much for your reviews! I'm happy to say that I think I can now stand on my own two feet, and won't be requiring anymore ideas from you guys. Thank you so much for those of you who came up with ideas – I used every single one of them and just some quick shout-outs to those of you who make my day…**

**Hades250 – I did put some mild E/G fluff in the last couple chapters, and I would love to give you some more now, but we need to return to our evil characters for 2 or 3 chapters, unfortunately. I'll do my best to reward you when the time comes, however! :)**

**LoverandaFighter – Wow you're totally right. I don't really like author notes in the middle of stories when I'm reading them (they usually drag me back to reality and I can't get lost in it as much as I like to) so I'm at a loss as to why I did it. However, my laziness is comparable to Raoul's, so I won't go back in the previous chapters and fix it anytime soon, however if there is any more singing later (which there definitely will be) I'll just describe it instead of ranting about how much I hate inserting lyrics into stories.**

**Eriksangelofmusic4ever – Haha yes you have a very good sense of smell. **

**LNDcrazygirl – ahh thank you thank you thank you for reading every chapter so loyally and letting me blab to you about random LND things. You make it worth being awake at 2 in the morning. **

**For those of you who are concerned, I'm getting my sleep cycle back to something sane and I just came back from the doctor who's going to recommend me to a sleep specialist. Anyway, this is way too long so now back to the story!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Love Never Dies. Be sad. Be very sad…**

* * *

><p>Raoul was lying back on his bed, ignoring the blood that was seeping out of his hands and into the silky bed sheets. He also ignored the stinging sensation of glass deeply imbedded into his flesh, and continued to clench his bleeding palms into fists as he stared up at the ceiling.<p>

That monster had raped his wife, he had no doubt. And most likely threatened her to keep the secret of what he had done; why else would she claim she had willingly slept with… it? And why in hell would she ever go back to him?

No, Raoul was absolutely certain this had been against her will, and that only served to fuel his anger. That bastard son of his was of no importance to Raoul. He was the consequence of a monster's force and disgusting desires he could not repress. Breaking the father's rib, and the son's nose, seemed to be very satisfying. Who cared if he had raised Gustave as his son? Who cared if he had kissed him goodnight? Not Raoul. The thought of kissing anything that was that monster's twisted flesh and blood, made him gag.

This needed to end. Now. He could no longer walk this Earth knowing that half-faced man – no, thing – was sharing it with him. He had to do something.

And with that, Raoul gently drifted off to sleep – even though it was only four o'clock in the afternoon – whilst creating a plan in his mind. A very evil plan, indeed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The author note was longer than the story itself – sorry! I'll update soon. Just had to end it there. And you'll find out why his hands are bleeding later – let's just say there's a little bit of the Phantom in him after all. (You still haven't figured out what Erik was playing in chap 18, we'll see if you can figure out this…)**


	22. Breaking News

**A/N: No a/n this time… *faints in surprise* hehe. Erik should pick me up and carry me away… *blushes then goes unconscious again***

**Disclaimer: I had a shot today. It hurt. I don't own LND. That hurts too. :(**

* * *

><p>It had been a mere day since the Girys' had last set eyes on their somewhat friend and boss, however rumors of a masked man in a fight were circling Coney, and they couldn't repress the need to investigate.<p>

As Madame Giry pressed the chime that rang throughout Erik's building, she couldn't help but feel anger towards the Vicomtess for being the cause of… well, _everything_. She and her daughter had dealt with Erik over the past ten years, and had at long last begun to believe he were truly healing. But, no, Christine had to reemerge and coax him back into her grasp before she could run away again, leaving him broken once more. And Madame Giry didn't know if this time round, she would be able to fix him.

As a flustered Christine opened the door, she seemed slightly surprised at who she found herself facing.

"Madame, Meg, why are you here?"

Madame Giry found this rather upsetting. She had more of a right to visit Erik than this young woman did.

"We heard news, and came to see if it was true. Where's Erik?" The older woman was looking around Christine's head, trying to find a sign of the musical genius perhaps at his piano. Finding nothing, she returned her cold gaze to Christine's.

"Erik is resting," was all she replied as she once again fidgeted with her hands. "He really isn't fit to have guests…"

A baritone voice called from the hallway.

"Christine, my dear," Oh how Meg and her mother loathed that nickname! "I assure you that whatever they could possibly bother me with I can easily deal with in my current condition,"

Sighing dejectedly, Christine silently lead the two women to Erik's bedroom. As they entered, they found Erik lying, his mask now replaced, with Gustave sitting on the side of the bed. His nose was bandaged and his face slightly pale from blood loss and seeing his father's face, however he seemed to be in a positive mood and gave a slightly strained smile as he saw the guests enter, grimacing as it scrunched his nose.

"Erik, are you going to explain what the hell happened?" Madame Giry took a few steps forward, putting her hands on her hips.

Sighing and shaking his head, Erik replied. "Madame, over the years, I think you have noticed I am a grown man and can take care of myself." Looking up, he noticed Meg still lingering in the doorway. "Ah, Miss Giry, I am quite pleased to see you. Do you think you can please the crowds tonight? I am afraid Christine will not be performing."

Opening her mouth then closing it again, Meg tried to mask her pleasure as she smiled. "I think I can manage, sir."

"Good, good…"

They remained in rather uncomfortable silence a few moments, before Gustave spoke. "Mother, can I have some of that medicine the doctor gave me?" Nodding and disappearing out the door for a moment, Christine reemerged with a glass bottle in her hands. She uncorked it and held it out to Gustave.

"Of course, darling, but only one swallow. You've had plenty as it is."

Nodding, Gustave took a swig of the red liquid, before grimacing and letting out an "Eckh," as the bitter taste scorched down his throat. He held the bottle back to his mother with a "Thank you," as she replaced the cork and placed it on Erik's bedside, beside his medications.

Madame Giry's eyes widened as she took in the boy's injuries. Whatever Erik had gotten himself into this time, was not some little fight he could brush off. "Gustave, child, what on earth happened?" as Gustave hung his head, Erik found the wall on the other side of the room suddenly very fascinating, and Christine again fidgeted with her hands, Giry became genuinely alarmed. "Well? Is someone going to explain what in God's name happened?"

Everyone was silent, until Christine spoke quietly, standing by the edge of the bed as she traced a pattern in the footboard. "Raoul was angry,"

Madame Giry blinked. "Angry at Erik, I can understand. However I have trouble conceiving why he would injure is own _son_!"

Here it comes. "The thing is… Gustave… isn't… exactly… _Raoul's_… son…" Christine mumbled that it took a moment for the two Giry's to decipher her words. At first they were puzzled, but after a moment they put two and two together and simultaneously gasped.

"_What_? Eirk – how _could _you! You should remember that at the time Christine was in my care, and –"

Blushing slightly, Erik rolled his eyes from the bed. "Why does _everyone always assume I raped her_?"

"What's rape?" Gustave asked with knitted eyebrows.

"I'll tell you later - much, much, later,"

Meg had yet to say a word, standing close to the doorframe. She felt betrayed, lonely, and overwhelmed. She stood silently as her mother ranted, Gustave sat on the side of the bed slightly confused, Erik responded every once in a while, and Christine remained just as silent as she.

"Mother, I think we should go now," Meg tried as she took a few timid steps forward and touched her mother's elbow.

"Nonsense, Meg, Erik has to hear me out –" Madame Giry shrugged her arm away.

"Mother, really, I think we've overstayed our welcome…"

Giry considered this before consenting. "Very well," she said with her thick French accent. "But I will be back soon," she warned.

"I look forward to your visit," Erik said with heavy sarcasm.

With a hmph, Madame Giry left with her chin held high, little Meg scampering after her.

As they closed the door closed, Christine let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So sorry for the average wait between chapters! I have been catching up on some much-deserved sleep, though. And playing my violin like my life depends on it, which it kinda does. But I am now prepared to chug out chapters like a madwoman again. And LNDcrazygirl, I agree with you that everyone thinks he raped her. I inserted Erik's quote because of you :P So now that I have a container of fruit, a fluffy white jumper I found, half a burrito, and a good day's sleep I think I should at least get another chapter out. Please review!**


	23. Hope

**A/N: It's a nice change to get some constructive criticism. I'm glad you think my writing flows, and the thing about not changing character's POV's is simply because I do think it flows better. I'd like to have varying chapter lengths; the short ones where we get a glimpse of Raoul or a quick conversation, and then the long ones where we have some fluff and maybe an interesting plot twist. That's the way I look at it. And WeLoveWeLive, I actually wrote the last chapter before I read your comment. We have to get a look into the Giry's minds the next chapter though, that will be a pretty short one. And I'm quite honestly surprised none of you have guessed the song yet. It should be quite obvious…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Love Never Dies. However, I do own this yummy piece of pineapple. Mmm…**

* * *

><p>"Well, that was…"<p>

"Horribly embarrassing and awkward?" Christine finished. Erik raised his eyebrows then opened his mouth, closed it, and then shrugged – but winced as an searing pain flooded his chest. The atmosphere of the room once again returned to awkwardness as they three remained frozen in their positions.

Gustave sighed. "I'm going to go play the piano now…" he phrased it almost a question before uneasily returning to the grand piano in the living room and composing a melody that seemed to scream discomfort.

A few minutes after Gustave left and they remained where they were, listening to the piano and cringing when he hit a wrong note, Christine finally spoke. "Are you alright? Can I get you anything? You should rest…"

He smiled at her generosity. "No, Christine, thank you." He seemed to be on the verge of saying something else, however decided against it at the last second. Concerned, Christine took the spot her son had previously occupied, next to Erik's chest.

"What is it, Erik?" she asked as she took one of his hands in hers and traced the multiple scars.

Erik was slightly surprised when she touched him so willingly, yet could not calm the worry inside of him. "I'm just thinking about… when you'll leave me…" he didn't finish the thought as he could find no suitable end.

Smiling sadly, Christine replaced his hand. "I promise you, Erik, I will stay with you as long as I can" With that she stood and was about to walk out the door when she said over her shoulder, "You should rest now, Erik," and then she was gone.

Slightly stunned, Erik allowed himself to compose a coherent thought. _What does she mean?_ He pondered. Did she mean she would stay until her duties as a wife to return to that violent man who had done so much damage to his body forced her to depart, or did she mean she would stay… Dare he even hope?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Gah there's my apology for putting a short chapter. I know you don't like them very much, and I don't really like them either, but I do like dramatic endings and that seemed a cool place to stop. Please review and let me know what you think! Also, they both seemed kind of out of character… anyone got any opinions? Please don't be afraid to let me know because uncertainty is not a very nice feeling and I love you all who review. :)**


	24. Anger, Frustration, and Stitches

**A/N: Okay WeLoveWeLive this POV change is for you! :) Think of it as a thank-you present for reviewing…**

**Disclaimer: *Sigh* I don't own Love Never Dies. I do own the Jekyll&Hyde cd I'm listening to though. I love Anthony Warlow… yay for Australia.**

**Okay that was totally random – on with the story!**

* * *

><p>Madame Giry angrily paced the small flat she shared with her daughter, who was curled up on the couch with a book and trying to ignore her mother's contagious frustration. Finally withstanding it no longer, Meg slammed her novel into her lap with an annoyed sigh.<p>

"Mother, really, stop worrying!"

"And to think that Erik really thought he owned her that much…"

"Mother,"

"…does he know that women despise being thought of as property? I bet he…"

"Mother,"

"…probably gave her more than enough money to pay of her husband's debt if she stayed with him…"

"Mother!"

Madame Giry ceased her pacing and faced her daughter who was also fuming.

"_What_, Meg?" she snapped. "What could possibly be more important than the fact that your love-obsessed boss has got that… that _whore!_ Finally back with him? You and I both know what will happen when she leaves again –"

"Mother stop!" Meg was standing now. "Mother, you know how much I despise that word. And Christine is not a… a… Mother, you practically raised her! She was my best friend! Are you really so greedy that you're being blinded? I was upset when I heard Christine was performing, I admit, however she is and always will be my best friend. And as it turns out she isn't performing, not tonight at least, and although he may be our friend, too, we have no right to interfere." With one final glare she added, "Things can be replaced, Mother, friendship and love, cannot." With that Meg stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

Madame Giry stood there. She knew her daughter was right, as she had inherited a wisdom that her mother had; or at least had at some point in the past. Firmly deciding action was necessary, she rushed away to her rom to find a 'souvenir' from the past.

* * *

><p>Raoul awoke at some ridiculous time in the morning. He didn't bother to check the clock, only fell out of bed. Groaning, he picked himself up and didn't bother to straighten his crinkled clothes, only walked out the hotel door.<p>

As he walked down the street, every footstep sending a throb through his body, Raoul realized that his hands were causing him much pain. Pausing, he lifted his palms for inspection under a street light. He noticed that his skin was sparkling **(A/N: No, Raoul is not a vampire! That would be weird, much too weird…)** and blood was dried in the creases of his flesh. He also noticed numerous scabs.

Raoul tried clenching his hands into fists, but only hissed as a stinging pain possessed his skin. More determined than before, Raoul headed to the resident doctor before embarking on his quest.

Half an hour later, Raoul was clenching his teeth as an aging man reopened the wounds in his hands. Clucking, he grabbed tweezers and began plucking out each individual shard of glass and dropping them into a bowl with a "clink."

"Sir, sorry to pry, but what did you do?" the doctor tried to distract Raoul from the pain as he continued reaching deep into the muscle of his palm.

"Punched a mirror…" Sensing he wasn't going to get much more information than that, the doctor asked more mindless questions about his life, career, etc. and continued extracting glass.

Raoul however, continued to think about his earlier actions while robotically answering a question about his father.

He had returned home, angry, and felt the need to damage something… anything! So to avoid looking himself in the face he had destroyed all mirrors with his bare fists. He didn't want to look into his own eyes and know that he was worse. He had sunk lower than that monster and that was why Christine was not running into her husband's arms, but the arms of the father of her child. He couldn't cope. Raoul was never really good at coping, and he had drunk the room's alcohol supply to nothing more than many empty bottles. So in frustration, Raoul did damage to his hands that would probably leave scars similar to Erik's before succumbing to a deep sleep; exhausted after a day's emotions that greatly resembled the Phantasma roller coaster.

"So, are you married? Children? Surely a handsome young man like yourself…" the doctor paused as Raoul's hands unconsciously tensed. He blinked before quickly changing subjects. "You're from France, eh? Fine country. Been there myself a few times…"

Raoul wished he could turn off his ears at that moment. He did as best as he could when the doctor began rambling on about how he had had the good fortune to visit the Opera House before the disaster. Instead, Raoul closed his eyes and prayed to the God he didn't have much faith in anymore, that this would soon be over; and he would once again be back in his expensive mansion with a wife.

However, he wasn't totally sure if that meant Christine, he thought as the doctor began to stitch him up again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: See? I told you Raoul was a little Erik-ish; not in the way that makes us all faint and cry with love, but, anyway, you get what I mean. And hmm he doesn't like Christine, anymore? Yes! Maybe he'll get a divorce… Eh, no. We need some drama. Raoul is too self-centered to subject himself to the scandal of getting a separation, and then he would be kinda second-hand and that wasn't a very good way to get yourself another wife back then. And he's not absolutely certain he wants to leave her yet. I'm going to explain this because I think I didn't exactly get it right before: He still feels somewhat possessive about Christine, and wants to prove to Erik she's still his. Not out of love, but we know how Raoul is with his gambling. It's kind of like that, do you get it? Anyway this a/n is too long – please review!**


	25. Wants

**A/N: I just uploaded chapter 24 and had this brilliant idea of Gustave saying something (you'll see it's the first line) and so I'm going to write. Because that's what I do when I have ideas. Genius, right? Lol.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own LND. Unfortunately… Rhyming grrr**

* * *

><p>Gustave was in Erik's kitchen, trying to reach up to grab a piece of fruit. Hearing a noise, he whirled around and proceeded to knock over the bowl he was reaching for, spilling its contents on the floor.<p>

"Mister Y – Erik – _Father_…"

Gustave stared as Erik stumbled into the living room, reaching out to grab the end of the couch, but failing as he collapsed to his knees with an , "Agh!" and placing a hand to his throbbing chest as he panted heavy breaths that seemed to be slicing his body in half.

Gustave screamed, "Mother!" before running over to Erik and trying to help him in anyway. Erik held out a hand to stop him as he recovered.

Moments later, Christine emerged, once again wrapped in nothing but a robe, with her hair dripping down her shoulders. Gasping, she ran up and kneeled on the other side of Erik.

"Erik! What are you doing? The doctor said –"

"Damn the doctors! I'm fine –"

"Yes, because 'fine' is hunched over the floor in agony!"

She got no reply as Erik closed his eyes tight and waited for the pain to ebb. When his breathing was steady, Christine and Gustave lifted him by the shoulders and helped him fall – gently – into the couch. Christine was instantly at his side, feeling his forehead and everything else she could reach.

"Erik – you stupid, stupid man! Are you hurt? God, Erik you could have –"

"Christine, please," He was still struggling to breathe. "Christine, you're not my mother," he said between breaths. "Well, thank god you're not – I never want to see her again…"

"Why?" Gustave spoke again.

Considering how to gently say that his mother had been the reason for his near-death, Erik said the simplest response he could. "She was very cruel to me, Gustave,"

As Erik began to breathe at a gentler pace, Christine fetched him a glass of water and his painkillers. He swallowed both before tenderly rubbing his injured side. After putting his head back and sighing with closed eyes, he suggested Gustave play. As he heard scuffling feet and a few warm-up notes before the piece Gustave had written for him, he felt the sinking of the cushion beside him and Christine's body pressed up against him. Erik sighed and opened his eyes, to find Christine's legged tucked under her, and she was trying to avoid leaning into his sore rib, but was stroking his thigh while watching Gustave play.

When she noticed his eyes were open, she turned her gaze to his and smiled. Erik smiled back, not quite believing his insane luck that was for once in his favor. Quickly leaning up to kiss his cheek, she stood to go dress herself.

Gustave repressed a giggle as he glanced and saw his father's shocked expression at a simple kiss. Gustave was not blind, and therefore he could see that his parents cared about each other very much, however a kiss on the cheek was a friendly gesture. At his father's obvious surprise at intimate contact, Gustave could not help but wonder what had happened to this intriguing man, and he sensed that the display the day previous with Raoul was not far from how Erik had spent the past years of his life.

Curious, Gustave finished his piece with such a strong last note, it reflected the determination he felt. For Gustave had inherited his father's ability of getting what he wanted, and Gustave wanted to find out what had happened.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ok that was… strange. Sorry again for the short chapter, but I said I liked dramatic endings, didn't I? :) Also, Eriksangelofmusic4ever, I just realized you're one of my favourite authors. Thank you a lot for reading and if you could please update some of your stories soon I might just reward you with a really, really long chapter. I love your stories (Love Lives On; Phantom Royale) so please please please update! And to all of you – Does anyone think that they're out of character? please review and take my poll!**


	26. Ending

**A/N: Hey, guys. Sorry for the week without updates! But, for personal reasons, I'm going to stop writing fanfiction. I'm terribly sorry for all of you who like this story – which is why I'm going to describe what I had planned to happen, simply to give you some sense of closure. I may return and keep writing (if I do I will re-write the ending into about 15 chapters), but right now that doesn't seem very likely. Again, I'm terribly sorry! But here's basically what I had planned to happen…**

* * *

><p>That little 'souvenir' Madame Giry was getting before was that mouth-spray(?) that Erik used on Carlotta in the original POTO. Raoul was planning to poison the Phantom, and Giry was going to get Christine to fail her performance. However, something goes wrong and Christine takes the poison, and Erik takes the croaky-mouth-spray.<p>

Don't worry, I'm not going to kill her off!

Basically, through some highly dramatic sequence of events, Erik hunts down Raoul and instead of killing him, hands him over to the police where he goes to prison. Christine barely survives, and she, Gustave, and Erik live happily ever after on Coney Island like some big happy family… okay, I wasn't going to make it that simple. There would be some drama during her recovery. Meg is kind of like an aunt, and Madame Giry returns to France out of guilt.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay, I'm going to keep saying it: I'm terribly sorry for all of you who were getting really excited for this! I honestly just decided to stop in the past 2 hours. I've just been feeling uncomfortable lately, and I'm going to say it again: I'm sorry. I hope you guys enjoy the ending, well, at least maybe you can stretch out in your minds like I was going to. I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, so very, very sorry to all of you! If I do ever return, I hope you guys will still be willing to read anything I write. :)**

**Love,  
>TheAustralianZombie<strong>

**P.S**

**That song in chapter 18 was **_**Music of the Night**_**.**


End file.
